


Ricochet

by tromana



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, Big Bang Challenge, Case Fic, Community: mentalist_bb, Crime Fighting, Crime Scenes, Drama, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Character Death, Novel, Role Reversal, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Team Dynamics, The Mentalist Big Bang 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 113,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tromana/pseuds/tromana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparks collide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Mentalist Big Bang 2012 on LiveJournal. With thanks to Miss Peg for betaing this story and for the near-constant hand-holding. Also to my artists, branquignole and lil smiles.
> 
> Credit goes to ch19777 for putting the plot bunny in my head.

Teresa Lisbon sat with her ankles crossed and her hands resting demurely on her lap. She let out a cautious smile when the red light began to blink. They were on the air. This chat show hadn't been her idea; her whole career, even, had been guided by the careful hand of her manager. Every night, she went to sleep, plagued by questions of the moral dubiousness of what she did. In a way, she was desperate to escape it. The problem was _how_. For even now, her father hung around her neck, like a noose that tightened every time she disobeyed him. Lisbon had been brought up to honor her father, and she did. However, the blurred line between family and professionalism caused their relationship to be fractious. She was a grown woman with a family of her own now. Lisbon no longer needed the lingering presence of her father looming over her. But as her manager, he insisted he had every right to stay. On a daily basis he reminded her that she would be nothing without him.  
  
And in truth, he was right. She had more money than she could ever dream of spending, even without her dad's extensive share. Her money was all squirrelled away for a rainy day, something for her to rely upon if things ever got tough. Lisbon was used to the frugal lifestyle; she was used to having nothing at all, especially during the early years on the carnival circuit where, some nights, she was lucky if she had anything to eat at all. Fear of having to return to that kind of situation was what made her save frenetically. She didn't want her daughter to live with nothing; she didn't deserve to go through what her mother had.  
  
The image of her daughter and husband flooded to the forefront of her mind and Lisbon let out her first genuine smile since she had arrived at the recording studios. Her husband supported her wholeheartedly; he understood her dilemma when it came to her career. He knew how it plagued her waking and sleeping thoughts, and didn’t try to persuade her or dissuade her in any way. Instead, he just held her hand and let her come up with her own decisions, whatever suited her best. Andrew also knew that she got the most joy out of volunteering her services to the Sac P.D. as it made her feel like she was giving back to the society she was stealing from. However, it was clear that she was also not prepared to cause a familial rift with her father. She was all he had left now and regardless of how much she loathed deceiving people, it was what worked for the both of them.  
  
"Teresa?" a voice called, reminding her of precisely where she was.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
She had entirely missed what was going on. The male presenter reached out and touched her left knee with a consoling smile. His eyes shined with admiration as she flinched at his gentle touch. She couldn't help it; this, in her humble opinion, was the worst part of her job. What she did wasn't miraculous; it was all based in pure science. However, she had everybody else convinced that she was in contact with the dead, a true psychic. In reality, all she did was wordplay, mind games, reading of body language and the like.  
  
"It's okay. We understand," he continued, and grinned that inane smile she hated. "It must be difficult, coming out of the zone."  
  
Lisbon remained mute but nodded in agreement. It was as good an explanation as any and besides, it ensured she appeared professional instead of telling them the simple fact that she'd been daydreaming, and thus revealing the truth behind her skill set.  
"Why don't you have a drink of water?" the male presenter continued and Lisbon nodded in response.  
  
Ordinarily, she wasn't the kind of person to accept drinks from strangers; she was far too suspicious for that. However, the drinks had been served by a runner prior to going on air and the jug of water had been served to both her and the two presenters. It was highly unlikely that if she were going to be targeted by somebody, that they would be willing to have two semi-celebrities taken down as by-products too. Lisbon was all too aware of the hazards of her job. The very nature of it meant that, by default, there were often disgruntled customers, relatives or even exes who took an instant dislike to what she told people. But, she reminded herself, she dealt only in the truth and sometimes, the truth hurt. If people weren’t too blind to see the truth for themselves, then they wouldn't have to pay somebody else - notably, her - to do it for them.  
  
She took a reluctant sip as she refocused her mind onto the task in hand. That was to get through this interview unscathed with some modicum of dignity. Lisbon hadn't wanted to go through with it; she loathed the limelight, even if she was comfortable enough dealing with people on a one-to-one basis. However, her father had booked it before she had even had a chance to shoot the concept down. He'd insisted it would be good publicity, that they would be able to make enough money to ensure her daughter would have a decent trust fund. And that had been enough to convince her. Her main weakness was her family and Lisbon would walk to the ends of the earth for her only child. Her father knew that all too well and was more than happy to exploit it. Time after time, she had walked into similar situations with her eyes wide open.  
  
She blinked several times, shook her head and then smiled back at the presenters. The vacuous blonde woman breathed a sigh of relief, clearly pleased that her interviewee had finally composed herself enough to continue with said interview. After all, this was going out live and they had a strict schedule to attend to.  
  
"You back with us, Teresa?" she asked genially.  
  
"I am," she confirmed and the woman breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"She's back in the room," the man confirmed to the avid studio audience, who let out a ripple of applause.  
  
"She's back in the room!" the woman echoed loudly, as if to make sure that everybody was absolutely certain of the fact.  
  
Lisbon swallowed down a smirk. She had never left the room in the first place, but that didn't mean she felt comfortable exposing herself in such a way. Silently, she reminded herself to think of Eva, who would be watching at home with her father. Soon enough, she would be reunited with them. There was only approximately ten minutes of this farce left to endure. The man plunged right in, asking her to explain her supposed skills to the audience. All of it was lies and she hated herself for telling it, but her father had trained her rigorously in the art of deception. Even so, it still came as somewhat of a relief when it seemed they were convinced by what she was telling them. Sooner or later, she swore somebody would see right through her and then, the game would be up. Every time it ended in success, she couldn't help but count her blessings.  
  
Soon enough, the conversation moved onto her voluntary work and for a second, Lisbon panicked. That work was meant to be private, her way of absolving her sins. Nobody was meant to know about the work she did with the Sacramento Police Department. However, she couldn't fault them for having a decent research department, nor did she lie about her involvement. There were only so many lies she could deal with handing out to people. Besides, she could hear her father saying that talking about her philanthropy would only paint her in a better light. Marks always seemed convinced that only _good_ people worked for charities, or the like; it was ‘money you can’t buy’ promotion.  
  
"So, Teresa, I hear you've been investigating some really serious cases including, and let me get this right," he paused for dramatic effect before continuing, "Red John?"

"Yes I am," she answered cautiously.  
  
"That has gotta be scary, hasn't it? Chasing down notorious criminals?"  
  
She sighed. People always seemed to have an unusual perception of what she actually did to help law enforcement. It certainly wasn't as glamorous as her day job, but neither was it anywhere near as dangerous as being an actual cop.  However, she only met criminals when she was profiling them on very rare occasions. Sac P.D. usually deemed that to be too hazardous; they couldn’t risk such an asset as her. Besides, she half suspected they believed if anything happened to her, her father would sue them for all they were worth. The sad truth was she could see him doing just that. He seemed to have no consideration for the fact she was a grown woman now, and a mother herself. Everything he did he claimed he did for her, regardless of whether or not she actually wanted him to do so.  
  
Despite the restrictions that had been put in place, volunteering her services to Sac P.D. had brought her a lot of joy over the past two years. She had always loved a challenge and helping the law enforcement officers to solve the most difficult crimes was about as challenging as it came. They respected her as a person, respected her insights and abilities and were more than happy to have her around too. Considering just how male dominated law enforcement was, that had been a pleasant surprise for her. Then again, she wouldn't have been surprised if the men simply enjoyed having a woman in the workplace either.  
  
"It's fulfilling," she admitted honestly. "And if I can help them, just a little bit..."  
  
Lisbon trailed off but the presenters continued to look at her expectantly. It was clear they wanted to hear more about what she did; they wanted to know precisely what she did with them. They were like a dog with a bone; as interesting as it had been to see her do a supposed 'psychic reading', people were always far more intrigued by the darker side of life. Murder, death, crime, destruction and the like, that was what they wanted to hear about. People had always found that kind of thing far more interesting than the positives. Her trade may have been in dealing false hope, but there had to be some kind of negative in order for her to do it in the first place.  
  
"Tell us some more about Red John," the female presenter urged. "How would you go about dealing with him?"  
  
As she considered the question, Lisbon bit on her lip. She had to be careful with precisely what she said. A lot of what she knew about Red John was confidential. Lisbon was one of very few civilians who had been exposed to the case files, and Detective Elliot had urgently told her that it was under the strictest of confidence. He hadn’t been expecting any great revelations from her; they had been working the case for years. All he wanted was her insight to try and help point them in the right direction. That automatically made Lisbon question just how they had known she had worked on Red John at all. She had only told two people herself: her husband and her father.  
  
"I help to profile the criminals, usually from what they leave at the crime scene. That tells you a lot about how they wish to be portrayed and how clever they think they are. Red John takes a lot of pride in his work. The smiley face alone tells you a lot; he thinks he is changing the world and it brings him great pleasure. He has a sense of humor; there's the irony of a smiley face beaming down at the victim..."  
  
"And what about the man behind the smiley face, what is Red John himself like?"  
  
She closed her eyes and years of instructions from her father came flooding back. _Remember, you have to_ sell _the act, Teresa. They think you're a psychic, and you can see into other people's souls and beyond the grave. You can't be clinical when you're with a mark. It's your job to make them_ believe _you can see what others cannot._ Instinctively, she shivered slightly. Her father always said she was too blunt, that she needed to make more of a show out of what she did. He always accused her of going straight to the point and reminded her that people were paying for a show, not just the information she imparted.  
  
"It's a window to his soul. The smiley face, I mean. I look at it and I can see the man that he is and what he wants to be. He's a troubled man, who is haunted by his past. He never had a real father figure or family at all; he's good with his hands, but is embarrassed to speak in public. Like everyone else, he, only wants to be happy, but is shackled to the darkness of his past."  
  
A hushed silence filled the studio as the presenters and audience took on the ramifications of her speech. Eventually, the vacuous blonde woman whispered a hushed 'wow' before the ripple of applause crescendoed to a loud cheer. Lisbon both loved and hated the sound of applause. It would have been foolish of her to deny that she didn't enjoy the ego trip just a little bit. However, as far as she was concerned, it was for all the wrong reasons. What she did wasn't spectacular or impressive. It wasn't a gift from God either. No, anybody could learn to do what she did with a little application and a lot of hard work. Besides, it wasn't as if she were saving lives or creating world peace. Essentially, she was lying and administering false hope. But, false hope was better than none at all.  
  
"Amazing, I'm amazed," the female presenter eventually breathed once the audience had quieted down.  
  
"She’s amazed, we're all amazed," the man concurred and Lisbon smiled briefly in response. "I don't know how you do it."  
  
She shrugged her shoulders slightly, but that only succeeded in endearing her to the interviewers further. At least she knew that this farce was nearly over. Then, she could go home and help put her daughter to bed. She'd promised Eva she would be there and Lisbon hated letting her little girl down. Her father seemed only to know how to use her, and from the moment she had discovered she was pregnant, Lisbon had promised to never treat her child like a meal ticket.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Teresa Lisbon," the man continued, before changing the subject. "And after the break, we have the man who owns a cat who detects seizures. Which, I'm sure will be absolutely fascinating. Make sure you stick with us to check it out."  
  
The forced smiles of both presenters stopped the moment that the blinking red light switched off. Makeup artists quickly descended to give them both touch ups, ready for the next segment. Part of Lisbon doubted that either of them had genuinely found her skills fascinating, and the supposed seizure cat that was coming up next even less so. Still, she was free to leave and that was the main thing. She rose to her feet and made three steps away before somebody called her name.  
  
"Teresa, wait!"  
  
It was the blonde woman. She almost tripped over her heels in her haste, but Lisbon ignored that. Instead, she turned around to regard the woman properly, unimpressed by the delay. Despite having just been interviewed by this vacuous blonde, she didn't even remember her name. She didn't care; this woman was a cardboard cutout presenter; they were all the same. The woman held that same hopeful expression that all of her clients had in their eyes, though. Will you help me; can you really talk to my deceased loved one and help me get closure or tell if my husband is cheating on me?  
  
"How may I help you," she paused for a second, as she fought her way to remembering this woman's name, "Alexa?"  
  
"I don't have long," she started haltingly, "the ad break is nearly over..."  
  
"Then you better make it quick," Lisbon retorted, more snappishly than she would have liked.  
  
"It's my husband; he's been distant and moody. And I found a set of lingerie, but it wasn't in my size..."  
  
"You think he's having an affair?"  
  
"Yes!” Alexa said, relieved that Lisbon had cut to the bone of the matter swiftly. “Your manager said you would be able to tell for certain? I can pay you..."  
  
"Book an appointment and I'll see what I can do," Lisbon instructed firmly.  
  
"I'll pay you double if you do it after today's show."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Triple, in cash,” she added determinedly, cutting Lisbon off as she did so. “Please, Teresa, I can't keep living a lie; I need to know the truth."  
  
Already, she could hear her father begging her to take the money and run. He would have been _proud_ about how her apparent reluctance had driven up the going price, even though that had never been Lisbon’s intention. As far as she was concerned, her fees were already extortionate and being paid triple that was just ridiculous. And yet, it would provide her with an ideal excuse to supplement Eva's trust fund. But she also wouldn't have the chance to investigate Alexa, or her husband thoroughly. She hated meeting with a client without being fully prepared. It made her feel nervous that somebody might see straight through her fragile façade.  
  
Alexa battered her doe eyes at her, and before she had a chance to object, Lisbon found herself agreeing to it. She told herself that she would have been a fool not to, and besides it wouldn't take all that long. The woman already seemed to know deep down that her husband was a cheat. All she was looking for was confirmation from an external and impartial source. Lisbon knew she would still be able to get home to her daughter in time, even if it would make it more rushed than she would have liked. That was provided that the traffic didn't slow her down, of course.  
  
"Thank you, thank you," the woman breathed. The producer was going crazy in the corner, and Lisbon knew their time was up. "Wait in my dressing room; use my laptop if you get bored. I don't mind."  
  
Lisbon watched as the woman took her seat on the couch. From the moment that she was seated beside her co-presenter once more, she was all smiles. Then, Lisbon was ushered away by a runner and now, she had to play the waiting game. At least, she surmised, she had been given free access to the Internet. She didn't have to be quite as unprepared as she originally anticipated. Immediately, she installed herself in the room and pulled the laptop onto her lap. All things considered, Alexa was being incredibly trusting. It also provided Lisbon with access to many documents to help her cause.  
  
Even so, Lisbon still found herself growing impatient, waiting for this woman to turn up. Her eyes continually strayed to the clock on the wall, and simultaneously, time seemed to be slowing down and speeding up. Her heart sank as yet another hour passed by, and her hopes of seeing Eva before bedtime slowly but surely diminished into nothingness. Vaguely, she wondered what the holdup had been. Just after her interview, there had been only approximately one hour left of the show. Besides, Alexa had seemed incredibly keen to go through with this. Why was she causing such a delay? Lisbon’s heart sank; she should never have agreed to do this private reading at such short notice. She checked her cellphone for what felt like the umpteenth time, but Andrew hadn’t responded. Maybe he was mad at her for changing plans at such short notice? Or maybe, he was just annoyed that she hadn’t consulted him before making this booking? No, this was Andrew. He understood her and her idiosyncrasies; he’d grown up with her, he was her best friend and confidante as well as her husband. It was far more likely that he was either too distracted by Eva to reply, or he’d simply let his phone run out of battery.  
  
She was about to consider calling him when Alexa shambled through the door. Swiftly, Lisbon shut down the laptop and smiled genially at the woman. The woman nodded at her briefly, tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, but only after she had given it a good brushing. Then, she cleaned her teeth, took a long drink of something almost neon colored, Lisbon surmised that this was some kind of energy drink, and it was only then that she took a seat opposite her.  
  
“Oh, I’m so sorry for the delay,” Alexa said, speaking quickly. “You know what it’s like.”  
  
Lisbon didn’t answer. Instead, she merely nodded gently in her direction. Of course, she didn’t know exactly what it was like to work in television. In fact, this had been her first interview. Her father had said that it would hopefully lead to ‘bigger and better’ things. She suspected that he meant famous clientele, her own television show, or preferably, both. But she could live without any of those things. In fact, if it wasn’t for him, she would give up the fake psychic business tomorrow and happily go on and live in obscurity.  
  
“Can you really do this?” the woman continued, staring intently. “You don’t seem the _type_.”  
  
“How so?” Lisbon asked; covering up the hint of concern in her voice.  
  
“You’re not showy. Ostentatious, not like the other psychics I’ve consulted.”  
  
“I like to get straight to the point,” she explained, hoping that would be enough to sate the woman’s curiosity.  
  
“I think that sounds like it’s for the best. All the other stuff, the scented candles, the drapes, the ominous low voice, I think it’s to hide something,” Alexa glanced over her shoulder, as if she was concerned that somebody was listening into her revelation. “I think they’re faking it, that they’re not real psychics.”  
  
“I couldn’t possibly say…”  
  
In truth, Lisbon agreed with her entirely. Out of all the other people in ‘the business’, she had never once met a true psychic. Like her, they had all used other skills in order to deceive naïve people out of their cash. That didn’t necessarily mean she didn’t believe in the potential of there being somebody gifted with those skills. It just meant that she thought they were incredibly rare, and unlike the charlatans much like herself who paraded their supposed gifts, they kept themselves well-hidden, away from the prying eyes of others.  
  
The reading didn’t take especially long to do. As she promised, she got directly to the crux of the matter and ‘read’ Alexa’s mind, and her husband’s thoughts too. She confirmed the woman’s belief, and after a tearful exchange, she handed over the money, in cash as promised. Before she left, Alexa thanked her effusively for helping to reveal the truth to her. Now that she knew her husband was a liar and a cheat, she was going to hand over those divorce papers, just like the ‘scumbag’ deserved. Apparently, after she had managed to stop crying, she felt liberated and free. She was ready to take control of her life once more.  
  
In a way, Lisbon was almost jealous. For all of her life, she had been under the controlling thumb of somebody else and still, she couldn’t see the way to escape. Maybe one day, she would be able to live life in the way that she wanted to. Maybe, she would have been able to offer her services to Sac P.D. full time or maybe, another one of the law enforcement agencies, if they were more willing to pay. But that all depended on when her father would no longer need her. Lisbon knew, deep down, that that would only happen when he passed on. As she sat in her SUV, she clutched hold of her cross pendant – the one thing of her mother’s that she owned – and offered a silent prayer of forgiveness. She didn’t wish ill of her father, she just wanted to be her own woman for a change.  
  
With a slightly heavy heart, she made her way back to Malibu, where the family lived. She loved living near the sea, and she knew that it was a wonderful place for Eva to grow up. Lisbon appreciated the stability of having a family home; it was a luxury she had never been afforded as a child. Instead, she had been forced to endure living in a cramped caravan with her tyrant father for company. It was little wonder she had turned to God during stressful situations, much to his disgust. Lisbon knew her mother had been a deeply pious woman though, and she hoped that she would have been proud of what she had become. Part of her sincerely doubted that though, and it always made her moral dilemmas feel all the worse.  
  
When she finally pulled up on the drive of the family home, all the lights were off. Lisbon frowned; that was very unlike Andrew. Normally, if she was working late – especially if she hadn’t given him much or any forewarning for it – he insisted upon staying up until she was back home safe. He always claimed that if he didn’t, he worried far too much to be able to sleep at any rate. Therefore, there was no point in even trying. In silence, she killed the engine, slipped out of the car and silently opened the door. Quietly, she made her way through the home, dumping her bag on the couch and then rifled through the mail. When she confirmed there was nothing of interest, she made her way to the kitchen, pushing Eva’s tricycle away as she did so, and then had a drink of water. Had Andrew been up, she may have suggested a cup of tea, or decaffeinated coffee, perhaps. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t around.  
  
She shivered slightly when she started to make her way upstairs. The situation had an innate sense of wrongness about it. Automatically, Lisbon tried to push it to the back of her mind. It was ludicrous; she was being overly concerned and for no justifiable reason. She knew that Eva was still trying to throw off a head cold, and Andrew had probably caught it off of her. He had probably tried to stay up and wait for her, but grown too tired and eventually given up. A smile toyed across her face as she imagined her husband and daughter curled up together in bed.  
  
The smile faltered when she noticed a piece of paper attached to the door of the master bedroom. Nervously, she closed the distance between herself and the door. The piece of paper was folded over once to conceal the contents. On the outside, it simple stated ‘Dear Ms. Lisbon…’ Intrigued, she pulled it off of the door opened it up and began to read.  
  
 _“Dear Ms. Lisbon,_  
  
 _I do not like to be slandered in the media, especially by a dirty money-grabbing fraud._  
  
 _If you were a real psychic instead of a dishonest little worm, you wouldn’t need to open the door to see what I’ve done to your dear husband and child.”_  
  
It was signed off by an all-too-familiar red smiley face.  
  
With her heart beating uncomfortably in her chest, Lisbon gently pushed open the door. The first thing she saw was another smiley face, this time, painted in blood. Then, she glanced down onto the king size bed she and her husband shared almost every single night.  
  
It was at that moment that her whole world was turned upside down.


	2. Chapter 2

“Teresa, are you okay?”  
  
She shook her head slightly, turned to face her superior, Patrick Jane, and smiled weakly. Was she okay? Not particularly. But then, she wasn’t inclined to tell him the whole truth anyway. Patrick Jane was a loose cannon; in a way, he reminded her of her father. Therefore, she had long since decided that he was not to be trusted. Besides, after one year of working in close quarters with him, she was already seriously questioning how he had managed to keep his job for so long. To describe him as a maverick felt like a gross simplification.  He seemed to live his life with reckless abandon and applied that to work as well.  
  
In reality, she knew the answer. He closed cases and looked good while doing it. Patrick Jane was the ideal poster boy for the CBI. Men wanted to be him, women wanted to be with him. He carried his damaged intensity, scars from his troubled childhood, well, and it only added to the allure. She had been brought on in order to improve the closed case record, as well as provide a calming presence towards the almost insane senior agent. Lisbon wasn’t particularly sure if she was doing a good job or not. If she was, then she dreaded to know what he had been like _before_ she had joined the CBI. She could only imagine a walking disaster, and it only reiterated her questions about how and why he had been successful as a cop.  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“You’re lying,” he replied.  
  
“And this isn’t Red John,” she retorted, keen to change the subject. “Are we done here?”  
  
Rigsby and Cho both glanced away, but Van Pelt looked shocked by her abrupt nature. She made for the door to the master bedroom; she didn’t want to stay near the dead body for much longer. Unlike many consultants, Lisbon understood the importance of forensic evidence. Often, it would be the lynchpin in a court case, but it disappeared relatively quickly. They needed to let the forensics guys get on with their job in peace, while they went and dealt with the family and the like. It was then that she really came into her own; there was only so much she could work out from cold reading a dead body. Living people, with fluctuating emotions and reactions were another matter entirely. And besides, it was statistically far more likely that this woman had been brutally murdered by one of her closest relatives rather than Red John.  
  
“How do you know?” Grace Van Pelt asked quietly. “That it isn’t Red John, I mean.”  
  
At least one of them had bothered to ask the question. Van Pelt looked at her hopefully; she was very keen to learn about Lisbon and her mindset. It almost made her feel uncomfortable; Van Pelt was the kind of woman her father would have insisted she targeted three years ago. Grace Van Pelt was hopelessly naïve, with a strong sense of belief in the ‘other realm’, an incredibly open mind and all too easily impressed. It would have been easy for her to persuade Van Pelt that she was truly a psychic; in fact, if the new rookie had done her research before joining, she would probably think she actually was one anyway.  
  
Jane shot her the ‘I’m waiting’ look, the one which she knew demanded answers and fast. Sometimes, it felt like she gave him the answers so he could come up with the crackpot plan to shoot down the criminal. They closed cases, and that pleased Virgil Minelli, Jane’s supervisor. However, sometimes, it made Lisbon feel more than a little uncomfortable. When Jane came up with a plan, he usually thought outside of the box. Minelli claimed this was ‘forward thinking’ and it ‘brought in a new era of fighting crime’. Lisbon, meanwhile, saw all the potential loopholes where Jane could hang himself from. Whenever they got a case through the courts, it seemed like nothing short of a miracle.  
  
“The cutting style is all wrong. Red John is an artist; every cut means _something_ to him. This?” she said, and she waved a hand in the general direction of the deceased. “It’s like an amateur trying to recreate a Van Gogh.”  
  
“Oh,” Van Pelt answered, sounding very small, like she had asked a stupid question. She hadn’t; it was just a case of what was obvious to Lisbon, and Jane to a lesser extent, was less so to everybody else.  
  
“And the smiley face is painted on the wrong wall. It doesn’t play out nearly so well, don’t you think?”  
  
“He’s broken M.O. before; he could’ve just done it again?” Rigsby suggested.  
  
Lisbon flinched. She knew all too well that Rigsby was referencing her husband and daughter’s death. Ordinarily, Red John exclusively killed women, between the ages of twenty and thirty. Generally, he struck in the dead of the night. He never applied his sexual fantasies to his victims; instead, he got his thrills from brutally murdering them. The smiley face on the wall was always painted prior to the final, fatal, blow. That way, they died with the fear and knowledge that Red John was the one responsible for their untimely demise. When Andrew and Eva Lisbon had been killed, it had been Red John’s first double murder since Carter and Janet Peakes. It had also been the first murder where an innocent child had been killed. For a long while, the cops had been unsure whether or not the murder had actually been associated with Red John. However, Lisbon knew exactly why he had changed his modus operandi: if you wanted to hurt somebody, you didn’t kill them. You killed their family instead.  
  
And naturally, she was still hurting from the blow. She still blamed herself for their deaths. She still wanted to set everything right, but doubted she ever would.  
  
“You see the smiley face, then you see the body. It makes sense,” Jane added. “Cho, Rigsby, I want you to check up on that using footage from previous crime scenes. If Lisbon’s right, we have ourselves a copycat.”  
  
“I am right,” she asserted. “And if we don’t keep this quiet, we’ll probably have an actual Red John case on our hands, too.”  
  
“And why do you think that?”  
  
“He doesn’t like slander. He sees himself as unique. A poor facsimile such as this will make him _furious_.”  
  
“Guess we’ll have to close this one quickly then, won’t we?”  
  
“Yes, boss,” she muttered.  
  
Sometimes, it felt ironic calling Patrick Jane her boss. Technically, of course, he was, but that didn’t mean it necessarily felt right. He was so out of control himself, it was a wonder that he could keep control of three younger agents and a consultant driven by revenge as well. Considering everything she had been through, Lisbon believed she still managed to retain more of her sense of sanity than Jane ever would. Silently, she reminded herself that he got the job done. He went into dangerous situations armed with little more than a gun, and helped to bring justice to the world. If that wasn’t an honorable calling, then what was? It wasn’t her place to judge his methodology; instead, she was hired to assist him in any way that she could.  
  
In silence, they headed towards the base camp, which they had set up in Malibu for the duration of the case. The commute back and forth to Sacramento just wasn’t practical when the crime scene was based this far afield. Lisbon knew that the others had booked to stay in a motel, and they’d been kind enough to ensure that she had a room there too. However, she had already promised herself that she would stay at home. It made her feel that little bit closer to Andrew and Eva that way. Silently, she hoped, wished they were at peace, but in actuality, she doubted they ever would be until Red John had been apprehended. And that was why she had volunteered her services to the CBI specifically. To bring peace to her soul, as well as having the vain hope that she could bury her family mentally as well as physically.  
  
Even though she had already established that Red John wasn’t responsible for the death of Sally Hughes, she couldn’t help but feel like it had reopened old wounds. Jane, who had been suspended due to a misdemeanor on a previous case, had been brought back the moment the fake Red John smiley face had been discovered. But Jane wasn’t her problem; she could get along working with him just as well as without him. In truth, sometimes, he made it a little easier because he was intuitive for a cop and seemed to grasp hold of her theories easily. No, she had panicked internally when she had heard that Red John had killed again so close to her family home. It made her instantly remember that fateful day, doing a reading for that insufferable presenter, Alexa, being late home to put Eva to bed. She could remember the creak of the third to last step on the staircase, where she first noticed that dreadful note.  
  
And she could remember thinking: _I could have,_ should have _, been able to stop this._  
  
Holding back murder sometimes felt like trying to hold back a tidal wave with a broom. At face value, murder felt senseless, pointless and innately wrong. Fighting against it was like fighting a losing battle; one where you could never win. The patterns underneath it, the motives and reasoning, the money, the jealousy, the deceit and lies which killers couldn’t cover up forever, that was how a crime was inevitably solved. Answers helped, Lisbon would never have denied that. However, it didn’t ever stop it from feeling like a waste of a life. It didn’t ever stop the families and friends of the victims from hurting because their loved one was taken away from them far too soon. It never got rid of the pain. That, she knew from very personal experience.  
  
“You’re quiet today,” Jane remarked as he drove them (too fast) to the motel. The others were in another car, which gave them a little privacy to speak more freely.  
  
“Just thinking,” she answered back stiffly.  
  
“About Red John?”  
  
“Partially.” It wasn’t a lie; there were other things on her mind as well.  
  
“We’ll get him one day.”  
  
“Maybe,” she answered; clearly she felt far more cautious about the subject than he did.  
  
Then again, she had to wonder precisely why he was almost as driven to close the Red John case as she was. It was true that any murder was ‘too many’, but why did he so desperately want to get Red John behind bars, or better yet, dead? Besides being a serial killer, what separated him from all the other murderers they sought out? What made him special to Jane specifically? Everybody knew Lisbon’s motives as clear as day; she wanted to catch the killer responsible for the deaths of her family. He was the man who had apparently driven her father to suicide, though they were yet to find the body. Jason Hamilton was missing, presumed dead and nobody was bothering to investigate either way. Of course, Jane had an equally tragic past, of which Lisbon had only figured out a few of the minor details thus far, but the connections between that and Red John seemed illogical.  
  
But then, did a senior agent, who led the Serious Crimes Unit for the California Bureau of Investigation, really need a precise reason to want a serial killer dead? Surely the job title alone was enough of a motive for that? Of course, it wasn’t revenge driven, or any of the other motives that death eventually boiled down to, it was more honorable than that. But just because there was honor behind the feelings, it didn’t stop the resolution from being ultimately, the same. And if any brutal murderer deserved to rot behind bars, or be killed, it was Red John. Even Lisbon’s beliefs couldn’t prevent her from seeing that.  
  
However, right now, Red John wasn’t their problem. If they didn’t find the man (or woman) responsible for Sally Hughes’ death as soon as feasibly possible, then she didn’t doubt that he would become their problem. A killer with the hubris of Red John would never stand for somebody recklessly copying his style like this. At least Jane understood the urgency for the closure of this case, even if the rest of the team were more dubious. But then, she had only really worked with Jane until very recently. And Grace Van Pelt had literally just started with the unit two days ago. It was understandable that they had more than a little apprehension when it came to her and her skills; they hadn’t had the chance to truly make sense of them yet.  
  
Jane took the scenic route back to the Malibu P.D. headquarters. Lisbon suspected that it was in the vain hope of trying to get her to talk again, but she wasn't especially in the mood to discuss anything beyond the case. Malibu held too many bittersweet memories for her; the ghosts of the past walked the sidewalks and clung to the air. Every corner held a new demon for her to endure. Jane had run away from his past; he originally hailed from Chicago, Illinois, and he came to California so he didn't have to face this kind of thing too often. She couldn't blame him for that; many people had advised her to do the exact same thing. Unfinished business, namely Red John, had stopped her from leaving. Maybe things would be different one day. Maybe the crushing pain she felt during every waking moment would eventually dissipate.  
  
When they arrived, Rigsby and Cho were huddled around a laptop, looking at the footage from various Red John crime scenes, just as instructed. A frown was deeply etched between Rigsby's brows as he concentrated on the task in hand. The somber expression on Cho's face suggested that they had finally realized that she was right; this wasn't Red John. Of course, that meant they now had to discover who was responsible and it somewhat set them back to square one.  
  
This spurred Jane into action. Knowing it wasn't Red John for certain suddenly made the murderer seem far more accessible. Red John didn't make mistakes, but the person responsible for this death had already made several. Most notably, deciding to attempt to mimic Red John in the first place. Before Lisbon even had a chance to really think, Jane had whisked her off to the relatives' home in order to go and interview the relatives. Then, she could hardly fault the logic; if she were in charge, then she would have taken that step too. Van Pelt came with them; she needed to learn all aspects of the job and fast. However, that wasn't enough to stop Jane from pressing into her about her frosty demeanor.  
  
"You hate being here, don't you?" Jane said quietly.  
  
"Yes and no."  
  
"One day, you'll be able to remember them in a more positive light."  
  
"Do you?" she countered.  
  
At that, Jane returned his attentions to the road ahead of them and that alone gave her an answer. Jane was still haunted by his past despite the fact it had happened over twenty years ago, in a different state entirely. It had colored who he was as a person and nothing could change that. He may have tried to bury it in the past, and sometimes, he was able to remember the happy times. However, that wasn't enough to stop the darker side of his childhood from haunting his dreams. Lisbon had seen the reports online; his mother had died when he was twelve, his father when he was sixteen. Jane hadn't opened up about the intervening years and she suspected that was what troubled him the most. But she didn't expect him to either; they were work colleagues, nothing more and nothing less.  
  
The moment they arrived at the Hughes family residence, Grace Van Pelt practically flew out of the car. It was as if she couldn't stand the tension that was simmering in the air any longer. Lisbon agreed with her sentiment; there were times, like this, when she wished that Jane would just let her get on with her job instead of trying to make sense of what was going on in her head. He knew her motives for being here and surely, that should have been enough. As they waited patiently on the doorstep, Jane reached out and placed a gentle hand on her left shoulder. Lisbon flinched at the touch and then promptly threw it off. Then, somebody answered the door and it was time to get on with work.  
  
The person who answered the door was a nine year old boy with a runny nose, with his thumb firmly attached to his mouth. Clearly, he was off sick from school and it broke Lisbon's heart a little. In a dank motel, not far from here, his mother met her death. Now, he was going to have to grow up without his mother - and who could say how it would affect the father too?  
  
"Hello, is your daddy home?" Jane asked gently.  
  
The boy stopped sucking his thumb for a second, nodded, and then he called for his dad. After five minutes, a man wearing a lab coat, with scientific goggles propped on his forehead appeared at the door. Immediately, Lisbon knew this man was a tinkerer; somewhere in the basement, he carried out madcap experiments and tried to be the scientist he’d dreamed about being as a kid. He was about to apologize and explain his tardiness when he seemed to take note of the badges attached to both Patrick Jane's and Grace Van Pelt's belts. Then, his face crumpled for half a second, but he shook his head and resisted the temptation to burst into tears.  
  
Instead, he ushered them into a spacious lounge, littered by a few of his son's toys. Mr. Benjamin Hughes made a lame attempt to pick them up before giving up and taking a seat opposite Lisbon. Jane, meanwhile, started pacing around the room, paying attention to the couple's belongings instead of turning his attentions to the grieving widower. He always did this; he claimed it gave him a feel for the inhabitants and their relationships. Lisbon found a cursory glance was usually more than enough; reading _people_ was her specialty.  
  
"It's my Sally, isn't it?" he murmured, his face growing increasingly pale. "She's been found dead, hasn't she?"  
  
Lisbon nodded; it seemed like Jane was happy enough for her to take the lead in this interview. "I'm very sorry for your loss."  
  
"No you're not," he snapped suddenly. "You do this every day; if people weren't killed, you wouldn't have a job, would you, Agent er..."  
  
"My name is Teresa Lisbon; I'm not an agent, I consult on various crimes for the CBI. Grace Van Pelt and Patrick Jane, they are the agents."  
  
"Oh. So why are _you_ here?" he asked, staring pointedly at her.  
  
"Because I know what it's like to live without answers. I know what it's like to suffer from that sense of loss and despair, with no light at the end of the tunnel and I don't want you to feel the way that I do every day and every night."  
  
This seemed to mollify the man slightly. Lisbon knew that people reacted to the death of their loved ones in vastly different ways. Hughes had chosen to lash out at the nearest person, to be angry because there was nothing he could do about it. She looked him square in the eye and took a gentle hold of his wrist. There had to be a reason why he was especially angry about it and it was her job to find out why.  
  
"Tell us about your wife," she asked gently. "Don't pull away," she added when he tried to take his hand back from her grasp.  
  
"What kind of weirdo is this woman? Why does she need to hold onto me?" the man demanded, directing his questions straight at Jane this time around.  
  
"Ms. Lisbon brings a unique insight into our investigations. If anyone will be able to figure out who killed your wife, and fast, it's her. Listen to her and do what she says. Trust me on this."  
  
Clearly still unconvinced, Ben Hughes gave a short sharp nod before returning his attention to Lisbon. Then, he finally answered the question and several more that she asked him afterwards. With some trepidation, he answered each and every one, much to her relief. In the end, she had a clear picture painted about this man and the relationship he had shared with his deceased wife.  
  
"How long have you and Sally been suffering from marital strife?" she asked and it was at that moment where Ben Hughes decided he'd had enough.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Answer the question, please," Jane said absent-mindedly as he looked at the photograph of their son with some interest.  
  
"What marriage doesn't have problems?" he countered, avoiding a direct answer.  
  
"True, but how long have you been seeking help for it?" Lisbon clarified.  
  
"Three months."  
  
"Thank you," she replied.  
  
"We'll need the details of your marriage counselor, then," Jane said as he finally joined her by the couch.  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
"For now,” Jane answered smoothly. “Thank you for your time. We'll let ourselves out."

  
After updating Rigsby and Cho in a conference call and instructing them to interview the woman's boss, Jane drove Lisbon and Van Pelt to the marriage counseling clinic. Once again, they fell into an uncomfortable silence. Lisbon was still deeply concerned about the Red John connotations in the case. She knew what it was like to be burned by the serial killer. And if Red John discovered this copycat, then she could easily see this spiraling into a never ending cycle of death. Violence didn't end violence; it extended it. That wasn't to say she was necessarily against corporal punishment - or the death penalty in extreme cases - the problem was when people took it into their own hands. Or believed they had a right to hurt the people who hurt them. It caused a never ending circle of pain.  
  
And from what she knew about Red John, he did precisely that. The image of her husband and daughter - with her toenails painted in her own a blood; a touch of delicacy reserved just for her - flooded to the forefront of her mind. This had to stop; _Red John_ had to be stopped. They were dancing on a dangerous knife edge right now. But first, this case had to be solved before everything got completely out of control.  
  
The building was all sleek white lines, with baskets of fuchsias hanging around the door. The elegant sign was marred by the all too cheerful slogan of 'bringing you back to you', which made Lisbon instinctively skeptical. She was already very suspicious of counselors and psychiatrists by default. The whole of the United States was made up of corporations and it just made her question the motives of these so-called medics. Like everyone else, they were out for a profit and she half-suspected that they tried to get their patients reliant on the therapy. Even so, the Hughes' therapist - and also, the owner of the clinic - had been gracious enough to spare the time for the interview.  
  
They were quickly chaperoned to the office where the meeting was to be held. Briefly, Lisbon stopped to scan the books held in the shelving unit; you could tell a lot about a person from their book collection. Jane stood beside her, and he selected a tome on notorious serial killers based in California. Without needing to look as closely as Jane was, Lisbon could tell it had been thumbed through on a regular basis. At first it seemed a little random; why would a marriage counselor need a book on serial killers? However, it did make sense: serial killers often had the most extreme of personalities and occasionally suffered from serious mental disorders. It was probably perfect research for her line of work. Dr. Simone Wyatt swept into the room with a flurry of scarves moments after they both took a seat beside Van Pelt. With a megawatt grin, she sat down in front of them, laced her fingers together and leaned forwards. Before any of them had a chance to speak, Wyatt shook her head dramatically, clicked her tongue and spoke herself.  
  
" _Such_ a tragedy. They were such a sweet couple and they were doing so well in therapy. In just three months, they had made some _major_ breakthroughs," she said with a heavy sigh. "And all that work, undone. Their _poor_ son, too..."  
  
"So you knew the couple well then?" Lisbon asked.  
  
"Oh, very,” Wyatt enthused and laced her fingers together as she spoke. “They told me all their intimate details. I have such a trusting relationship with my clientele."  
  
"And did either of them suffer from paranoia, a fear of being killed?"  
  
"Confidentiality, my dears. I wish I could tell you, but..."  
  
She shook her head dramatically. Lisbon frowned and Jane just smiled.  
  
"A little redundant, don't you think, if the client is dead," Jane remarked lightly. "You can’t offend them beyond the grave.”  
“Ah, but you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, either.”  
“If you won't tell us willingly, we will find another way to get the information," he answered back, his tone low.  
  
"Are you threatening me, Agent Jane?"  
  
"Getting a warrant, charging you with obstruction.” He listed them on his fingers as he brought them up. “There are plenty of _legal_ methods to get what we need."  
  
"Yes. Sally Hughes did suffer from a very mild form of paranoia. _Very_ mild," she stressed when she eventually relented. "She thought the cleaner at her workplace was stalking her."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Will that be all?"  
  
"Not quite," Lisbon interrupted quietly. "Have you heard of the serial killer, Red John?"  
  
The woman glanced out of the window before returning her attention to Lisbon and the two agents sitting in front of her. She ran her right hand through her thick curly red hair and then shook her head. Then, a look of seriousness crossed her features, almost as if her every reaction to this specific line of questioning had been pre-planned.  
  
"No, I can't say that I have. Now I really must go or I will be late for my seven-thirty."  
  
"One more question," Jane said smoothly as he stood to shake the woman's hand. "You don't just do marriage counseling, do you?"  
  
"I specialize in it, but no, I don’t just offer marriage counseling as a part of my services. Any particular reason you have an interest in that?"  
  
"Just intrigued,” Jane answered with a bright smile. “Thank you for your time."  
  
With plans to talk to the supposed stalker in the morning, they met up with Rigsby and Cho for dinner. Over lobster, Lisbon observed the interactions between Wayne Rigsby and Grace Van Pelt with considerable interest. It was well-established that fraternization within units was strictly against the rules, but it was obvious that Rigsby was sexually attracted to the new rookie. Silently, she made note to advise Rigsby not to go there in private; she got the impression that Jane and Cho wouldn't care either way so long as the job got done. However, that didn't mean the brass would be quite so lenient on them. She liked Rigsby; he was solid, hard-working and dependable. Lisbon didn’t want him to lose his job over something easily avoidable. And this was Grace Van Pelt’s big break; she didn’t deserve to have it screwed up by an over-zealous colleague.  
  
When everybody disappeared back to the hotel, Lisbon hailed a cab to go back to her family home. She didn't bother telling them where she was going; it was none of their business. This was a private place for her - almost a sacred spot - she didn't want any of the others here. Besides, she wanted to offer up a silent prayer, alone, for her deceased family. Lisbon didn't know if it would do any good; all she could do was hope that God would forgive her for her sins and allow her family to rest in peace.  
  
After a few silent prayers in the master bedroom, Lisbon padded downstairs barefoot. Automatically, she headed towards the kitchen which only had a few basics left in it, including a coffee machine. With a sigh, she switched the machine on, topped it up with coffee beans and hot water and fetched the mug her daughter had bought her for her last mother's day. Vaguely, she thought she heard a car pull up outside, but she disregarded it. Then, she filled her mug and took a few tentative sips. The coffee was old and past its best, but it was better than nothing.  
  
It was then that she heard a series of loud knocks, first on the window in the lounge and then on the front door.


	3. Chapter 3

She was stunned to see Jane standing on her doorstep, with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets. He eyed her seriously and Lisbon found herself having to resist the temptation to sigh heavily. She should have known that Jane would have followed her home. The man had no sense of boundaries and respect. Even if she had told him that she needed a little personal time, he would still have managed to find a reason to disregard her request and interfere. Usually, that request hinged upon the reason of him ‘needing her help’ regardless of whether or not he actually did. And inevitably, her sense of righteousness meant that she gave into him. Along with Red John, doing her job and doing it well was her driving force now. She didn’t have a family to strive for any longer, and thus, her self-worth laid purely in her ability to solve crimes. It seemed like Jane interfering and wreaking havoc was just the way he was hard wired and there was nothing she could do to stop it. It was just like she had to work in order to distract herself from the tragedy in her life.  
  
"Jane? What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
Without a word, he brushed past her and walked straight into the house. She watched as he took in each of the rooms one by one; they were scantly furnished and dirty from years of dust and grime building up. Lisbon didn't feel ashamed by the state of her property; she didn't live here full time anymore and thus, she felt no need to put the effort into maintenance. She didn’t dare rent out the property either, for fear of what clientele it might attract and in a way, she still felt the need to cling onto it. Besides, it all seemed so futile. You were born, you worked, and you died. Why waste time on things that were just going to be undone in the long run?  
  
"Oh yes, Jane. Please, be my guest. Make yourself at home," she muttered angrily.  
  
"Teresa, you can't live like this."  
  
There was a deep dark look of concern hidden behind his eyes, but Lisbon couldn't help but note the hypocrisy. Jane didn't own his own place; instead, he chose to live in extended stay motels or occasionally, the attic of the CBI. Some called it dedication to the job. Lisbon believed it was a more deep-rooted issue, something to do with his past. He couldn't risk settling down out of a fear that one day it might all have been taken away from him. The fear was well-justified, of course. Even after just one year of working with Patrick Jane, he had nearly gotten himself killed on several occasions. If it hadn’t been for Rigsby, Cho and even herself on occasion, then Jane might not have been here at all. One day, she swore, his recklessness would cost the life of himself or somebody close to him, but Jane just couldn’t seem to see that.  
  
In silence, she led him through to the kitchen. She knew she had a teapot somewhere and some old Ceylon tea that Andrew had favored when he'd been alive. Part of her felt like she was betraying her husband by offering it to Jane, but equally, she knew that she was only going to throw it away eventually. There was little point in it going to waste out of some sort of misplaced loyalty to her deceased husband. In silence, she prepared his tea, intrinsically aware of Jane's eyes watching her each and every move. When she handed him over the mug, he quietly thanked her and then she took a sip of her own cooling coffee. Lisbon knew she had to explain to Jane that she was perfectly sane, that she wasn't punishing herself for the death of her family. She did ensure she lived moderately well, mostly off of her income from the CBI. It paid enough for everything else and thus, her years of savings mostly went untouched.  
  
"I don't stay here often, Jane," she explained and he still looked skeptical. "I sold most of the furniture. The things I couldn't bear to let go of all fit inside a small box, which is in my home in Sacramento."  
  
It was the truth. After years of deception, Lisbon could no longer bring herself to tell lies, unless it was strictly necessary. When she had gained employment with the CBI, her Malibu home had become mostly irrelevant, and thus, she had decided to get rid of most of her belongings. Jane nodded slowly, but she still wasn’t entirely sure if he believed her. But then, it was his prerogative whether or not he did so. Lisbon knew that she wasn’t lying, and that was the main thing.  
  
"You kept hold of the house as one of your remaining connections to your family?"  
  
"Yes," Lisbon confirmed; there was little point in her lying to her boss. "I come here occasionally for reflection. Maybe one day I'll be ready to let it go, but not yet."  
  
“Right,” Jane answered back.  
  
Once again, they fell into an uncomfortable silence. Lisbon regretted getting rid of virtually all of the furniture in her home now; she couldn’t even offer Jane a place to sit. But still, considering the amount of time she actually spent here, it felt like a waste just keeping it. Selling the stuff and ensuring it was used, and then donating the money raised to bereavement charities had helped her considerably.  
  
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Teresa," Jane said suddenly, and she was almost surprised by the sincerity of his tone. "I should go."  
  
"You're here now. I don't mind."  
  
"And you're lying to me," Jane said and her mouth dropped slightly in surprise. "Please, Teresa. I'm a detective. I can tell when somebody is lying. Maybe not as accurately as you, or the reasons why, but I have been doing this job for years. You learn these things."  
  
"Finish your tea, at least," she instructed.  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
After an awkward silence that lasted approximately one minute, they slowly started to discuss the current case. Lisbon was glad to get off the uncomfortable subject of her personal life; she always felt exposed whenever she discussed it with other people. Once, Lisbon had told Jane that she had masqueraded as a psychic, but that she had faked the ability using her natural skills of deception, reading body language, wordplay and the like. It hadn't bothered him much; if anything, he had seemed almost impressed by it. After all, in part, Jane had been responsible for securing her current position in the CBI; he had seen the benefits of her skills from the very beginning. Now, they mostly got along with the task in hand: solving crimes. Lisbon hated being reminded of her fear that everybody would figure out her secrets. She still had skeletons in the closet, though, so the fear had never really gone away.  
  
It appeared that Jane had very similar thoughts about this supposed copycat Red John as she did herself. While the stalker seemed like a positive lead, she was far more interested in the marriage counselor. She had appeared more disappointed about the loss of income from the couple as her clients than she had about the death itself. And then, there was the opinions on Red John. Still, the supposed stalker needed investigating in order to be certain. However, Lisbon was fairly certain that 'stalking' had been an exaggeration and the deceased had just been a fairly anxious soul. She scrutinized Jane as she considered her thoughts. Jane was all about the result of the case; he’d rather close it and fast, even if that required cutting corners. Even though she had no training whatsoever, Lisbon had always been more methodical in her thoughts. She preferred not to leave a stone unturned before she headed down the correct avenue.  
  
And then, there was the simple fact she had already urged Jane to close this case as soon as possible. She should have known better; she should have known that would encourage his reckless behavior in lieu of good, honest police work. He was already convinced of Dr. Wyatt’s guilt and thus, he wanted his confession. He was planning something and he wasn't to tell her precisely what it was he was planning. Nor did she entirely expect him to either. Jane was the boss, she was his subordinate, and he only needed to tell her what was strictly necessary. Still, it irked her, not being in the know. He was using her information and running risks. This was the kind of behavior that Minelli was hoping he’d temper by having her calming presence around. She really wasn’t doing a very good job at that.  
  
“Thanks for the tea,” Jane spoke and he placed the cup on the side. “I’ll see you in the morning.”  
  
“Jane…” she whispered and he turned on his heels.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Never mind,” she added hastily.  
  
There was no point in pressing him to open up. That was, quite simply, a lost cause. Instead, she watched as he headed towards the front door and let himself out. If he was going to risk hanging himself, then so be it. Of course, she genuinely hoped that he would get a positive result instead, but she knew there was always the risk that the case would turn sour. But that was Jane; that was his chosen methodology and it seemed to work. And he was lucky, when it came to solving cases. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have still been in employment with the CBI. Would he?  
  
xxx  
  
He was disappointed. Jane had hoped that Lisbon would open up when he visited her. Regardless of what she claimed, the way she clung onto the past was unhealthy. But then, he could hardly blame her for that. Every night, when he tried to sleep, images of the car crash which had taken his mom’s life flashed through his mind. It had been his fault; she had been on the way to the pharmacy to pick up his prescribed medication after a bout of tonsillitis and his mind had always managed to fill in the blanks. In quick succession, the crash was followed by his father switching from hapless drunk to a blind rage in the flip of a coin. It always ended with seeing his dad hanging from the light switch from a makeshift noose. As much as he liked to believe the scars of the past remained right there, they clung onto him at night and reminded him of whom he was and where he came from. Even moving across the country, and over two decades passing, had done little to ease the pain.  
  
They never caught the person responsible for the catastrophic turn of events that his childhood had turned into. And thus, he had never been able to reconcile it with himself. Jane had easily found a way to blame himself for the accident. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case, but it didn’t stop his mind from working in other ways. He always wondered what would have happened if his mom had never been involved in the crash, or if they had managed to get justice for her. Of course, those ‘what ifs’ were never answered; Jane knew they never would be. Instead, he was certain that it was the reason he had opted to become a law enforcement officer. He never wanted people to suffer the indignity that he and his family had. After all, he hadn’t been able to save his parents, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t save other people instead.  
  
Jane also knew that his methodology was fairly unorthodox for a cop. He had been lucky to get as far as he had, and it all came down to the speed in which he closed cases. If he didn’t have that, then he would have been kicked out on his ass for being too much of a risk otherwise. But he was his father’s son, and had always felt the irrational need to push the limits. And ever since Teresa Lisbon had joined his team, the closed case record had only improved. She had strong insights and good instincts – better than his – and that meant he was able to use them in order to bring about justice for more families. Criminals deserved punishment, of that he was certain. And really, excepting the judge, jury and a plethora of D.A.s, who cared about the methods used, just so long as murderers ended up being caught and put behind bars? He certainly didn’t, and his team was more than happy to work for him. For the most part, even Minelli was content with his work ethic. It was just when a little too much paperwork landed on his superior’s desk that he got irritated.  
  
In the end, he gave up and turned on the side lamp. He needed to think through this case, to work out a way of getting Dr. Wyatt to confess to the murder of Sally Hughes. The first problem was trying to figure out the motive. During the conversation at her old house, Lisbon had briefly touched upon her suspicions for motive, but she had stubbornly refused to expand upon it. She often did that; it was like she believed that if she only told him half the story, it would stop him from being reckless. However, and he was well aware that she knew it; it often encouraged him to do the exact opposite in order to bring about justice as soon as possible. Besides, he _liked_ being able to prove to her that he could be just as intelligent and almost as intuitive as she was.  
  
After putting together the shreds of information that Lisbon had offered him, Jane suspected that Sally Hughes had done some research into Wyatt and discovered she had faked her certificates. She wasn’t actually a qualified doctor and she wasn’t even a qualified counselor. The woman had threatened to go public with that news unless they received a substantial payoff in exchange for her silence. In the end, Wyatt had decided to take matters into her own hands, especially when she discovered that Sally Hughes was less than virtuous too. The victim had been having an affair with another woman behind her husband’s back and that was enough to tip Wyatt over the edge. Of course, it was all supposition and they didn’t have any evidence yet, but that would come in time. One of the reasons he had picked Grace Van Pelt to join his unit was because she had excelled at the computer based researched during her training. Now, it was time to put her skills to the test.  
  
In the meantime, he and Lisbon were going to have to get the confession. Lisbon rarely liked Jane’s plans, but he knew he would be able to convince her to participate eventually. After all, as he always justified it, it was for the greater good. They knew who was responsible, they both agreed on it in spite of a lack of evidence, and they just needed to get them to confess. Jane dug out his faithful notepad and began to scribble down in it. He needed Lisbon to re-interview the suspect, alone, and work out for certain if she was guilty or not. Then, he needed to actually get her to confess. The first part was easily planned, the second less so.  
Just what would trigger a confession from a cold-hearted killer who could blithely lie to the police with practiced ease? She’d lied about knowing who Red John was; that page was the most read in her book on serial killers.  
  
Then, he smiled. He knew exactly what he was going to do.  
  
Come morning, while they were leaving Rigsby and Cho to follow up on the stalker and Van Pelt to research Wyatt, Jane dragged Lisbon back to the marriage counseling clinic. It was early and a man waved cheerily at them as he watered the fuchsias. Lisbon was in a petulant mood; Jane had already explained the plan, but she was still in the ‘stubbornly refusing to participate’ mode and he needed to shake her out of it, and fast. He’d already booked the emergency appointment for her with Wyatt. Jane had claimed that she needed help sleeping, an easy lie for him considering he was a chronic insomniac himself. However, Lisbon hadn’t been impressed by the concept of having to see some kind of shrink at all; briefly, Jane found himself wondering if she had some kind of impression with all shrinks, psychiatrists and counselors, but then he knew her sense of professionalism would win out. She would speak to this doctor, because she wanted the case closed as much as he did.  
  
“I’m not doing this,” she said bluntly as they walked through the door for the umpteenth time. “I don’t see why…”  
  
“Shh, Teresa,” he answered soothingly and placed a hand on the small of her back. “I know you don’t like it, but it’s for your own good.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes slightly at him, but didn’t retaliate. Of course, she knew they were in a very public place where they were likely to be overheard, so she couldn’t snap back in the way she saw fit. Naturally, Jane was more than happy to use this to his advantage; he was going to get her into Dr. Wyatt’s office, and she was going to talk to her. Lisbon was going to use the fabricated appointment to have a proper read of the counselor, and then, she could report back. All she had to do was pretend she had a problem for a very short while, and that was it. This was something she had done for years when she had pretended to be a psychic; he wasn’t asking her to do anything outside of her comfort zone. Theoretically, she should have been absolutely fine.  
  
“Teresa Lisbon?” the receptionist called, and Lisbon froze for a second. “Dr. Wyatt will see you now.”  
  
“Jane, I _can’t_ …” she whispered, and for a brief second she looked slightly paler than usual.  
  
“You’ll be fine,” he urged. “Go on. The sooner you deal with this, the better, yes?”  
  
Her glare deepened, but in the end, she sent him a decisive nod and he was relieved. Jane knew that Lisbon would come around in the end, but sometimes, she was a lot of hard work. At least he had managed to convince her to go ahead with it now.  
  
xxx  
  
“You don’t want to be here, do you?” Dr. Wyatt started softly.  
  
Lisbon avoided making eye contact with the fake counselor and instead, drummed her fingers against the coffee table that sat between them. On it, Wyatt had placed a notebook, some pages printed off of the internet and a ballpoint pen. However, Lisbon was staring at the bookcase. Even from here, she could see the textbook on serial killers. This woman was a con artist, just like she had been prior to the death of her family. And the fact that she had now killed in order to continue with the deception made Lisbon sick to her stomach. She showed remorse every single day for what happened to her husband and daughter, whereas Wyatt was more than happy to pretend that nothing had ever happened.  
  
When the woman repeated her forename, Lisbon reluctantly drew her gaze away from the bookshelf and back onto Wyatt. The woman rearranged her scarves and smiled genially. Slowly, she reached out to touch her hands gently, but Lisbon automatically pulled them away before she had a chance to do so. Fleetingly, Wyatt frowned before she rearranged her features into a soothing expression once again. However, Lisbon had already seen the chink in her armor. Despite her ‘many years of experience’, or so she claimed, she wasn’t all that prepared for tough patients who didn’t want to open up.  
  
“I’m sure your boss booked this appointment for a reason. He wants to help, and so do I.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“I’ve been told you have sleeping problems?” she asked and Lisbon jerked her head in a slight nod. “I assume this stems from the death of your family. They were killed by Red John, correct?”  
  
“Yes. And I thought you’d never heard of Red John.”  
  
Wyatt glanced out of the window briefly. It was the first time in this whole farce of an appointment when she had stopped staring relentlessly at Lisbon. She was almost glad for the reprieve, but she also knew that whatever came out of her mouth next would be a lie. The woman’s tells were blatant, after all.  
  
“Please. Everyone’s heard of Red John,” Wyatt answered dismissively.  
  
“Then why did you lie about it yesterday?”  
  
“It would have been a little bit suspicious, considering…”  
  
“Considering what?” Lisbon pushed her, keen to hear the words herself.  
  
“Never mind,” Wyatt retorted, but Lisbon had heard enough.  
  
“Thank you for your time.”  
  
She stood and headed straight for the door. When Dr. Wyatt called her name several times, she blindly ignored her and went to the waiting room. There, Jane sprang to his feet and practically chased her out of the clinic. It wasn’t until they were safely in the SUV that Lisbon dared to confide in him about what she discovered. Wyatt was definitely the person responsible for Sally Hughes’ death and she had very nearly confessed to Lisbon. She was frustrated; if Wyatt had actually confessed, then all Jane would have had to do was arrest her. Lisbon would have been more than happy to testify in court as to what she had heard. Instead, she knew that Jane was going to do something risky simply to squeeze the confession out of her.  
  
Once they were back at the base Van Pelt had set up for them in the Malibu P.D. headquarters, the young rookie obligingly confirmed that the paper trails led to Wyatt fabricating her qualifications. Rigsby and Cho called soon after to say that the supposed stalker was definitely a dead end. The man, while familiar with Sally Hughes, certainly didn’t seem to have an unhealthy interest in her. That meant the case was heating up. Jane quickly informed each of them that they had mundane tasks to do – Van Pelt to look at the Hughes family bank details, with Lisbon’s assistance. Rigsby and Cho were to interview the boss, just to make sure. Lisbon was about to complain about being ‘wasted’ doing paper trails, but before she had a chance, Jane had disappeared.  
  
Vaguely, she watched as Van Pelt typed furiously at the laptop. To keep herself busy, Lisbon prepared her several cups of coffee, but soon found herself growing bored. If they had a spare laptop, then maybe she would have been of more assistance. She had experience looking in databases and the like for information, too. Slowly, her mind strayed to whatever the hell Jane’s plan was and she was getting increasingly concerned. Knowing him, he would do something drastic to get the confession, like pretend to be the real Red John. Then, fear grabbed hold of her. She could easily have planted that seed in his head when she had expressed the urgency to close the case. Swiftly, she apologized to Van Pelt, explained that she had to go and quickly called Rigsby and Cho.  
She met them both back at the clinic. Wordlessly, Rigsby burst into the building and Cho stayed with her. He didn’t say a word, but his presence was more than enough comfort. Just so long as Rigsby stopped Jane from doing anything stupid, then that was the main thing. After a tortuous five minutes, Rigsby and Jane eventually appeared with a handcuffed Simone Wyatt in tow. Jane guided the woman into the car and Lisbon caught Rigsby by the arm.  
  
“What did he do?” she asked him quietly.  
  
He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”  
  
Ignoring the pleas to come back, she headed straight into the clinic for the second time that day and went towards Wyatt’s office. The receptionist immediately complained, but Lisbon ignored her. She pushed the door roughly open with her right hand and stared at the opposite wall in immediate disgust. There, was a half-painted facsimile of Red John’s calling card, the smiley face. Just as she suspected, Jane had threatened her, had pretended he was the real Red John masquerading as a cop. Lisbon, automatically, was furious. Her anger was partially directed at Jane, of course, for taking it way too far to get a confession, but also at herself. She could have stopped him from doing this and she should have known better.  
  
And then, there was the simple fact that he knew just how much Red John hurt her.


	4. Chapter 4

Jane was feeling irritable and bored. Technically, it was his fault, but still. Due to having two suspensions within the space of a month, the time he’d spent off was beginning to drive him mad. He told himself that it was for the greater good, they had closed the case and averted a potential crisis. Red John hadn't gotten wind of their copycat killer and now, Dr. Simone Wyatt was safely behind bars and would remain there until she was tried for murder. Unfortunately, Teresa Lisbon had seen fit to tell his boss about the methodology he had used to garner the confession and Minelli had taken an instant dislike to it. He wasn’t angry with her; he understood why she had done it. However, he was a little bit disappointed; he’d hoped she would know why he had to do what he did. But ultimately, that was why he was driving himself stir crazy in his room at the extended stay motel. That was why he wasn't at work instead.  
  
Before he'd left, Jane had made sure that he had a copy of the abridged version of the Red John case files. It gave him something to work on while he was away and besides, it was his most important case. Red John hung over them like a dark shadow and his consultant more than most. He hated the fact that Teresa Lisbon was suffering in a similar, but more acute, way to how he had since childhood. She deserved answers and he was determined to give them to her as soon as feasibly possible. Maybe then she would see fit to stop blaming herself for the death of her family, especially her daughter, and then, she would be able to move on with her life properly. All the prayers in the world weren't going to make a difference, but if he was proactive about the case then he might just.  
  
However, he had read these notes countless times and he hated the fact he was constantly going over the same old ground. They needed some new information - and fast - but the scant leads they had were all stale or redundant. If one of Red John’s so-called friends or followers suddenly developed a conscience, then that would have helped immensely. Or if Red John decided to kill again, they would have to hope they could capitalize on the new leads that developed as a consequence. But even so, the killer was meticulously careful. On the rare occasions he did leave something behind, there was always a hidden message behind it. Red John didn't make mistakes; or at least, he didn't appear to. Besides, he had only killed once since Jane and his unit had taken control of the case. That was shortly after Lisbon had joined the team, and at that point, she had been half the woman she was now. She’d still been so deep in mourning for her husband and daughter, that the case had done more damage to her than use. Jane was sick of feeling like he was three steps behind Red John, but he reminded himself that the serial killer was human. He did make mistakes. One day, he told himself, he would have answers for Lisbon and all of the other grieving friends and relatives of victims, too.  
  
With a heavy sigh, he snapped the file shut and stashed it underneath the mattress for safekeeping. He couldn't sit still for much longer; he needed to do something more proactive. Quickly, he came to a decision, grabbed his gun off the counter and holstered it. Jane could feel he was tensing up and decided that getting down the range and having some shooting practice would make sense. In spite of all of his achievements in law enforcement, he consistently felt under confident handling a firearm. And although he was a fairly good shot down the range, it was another matter entirely applying it out in the field. Regardless, the more practice he had handling the damn thing, the better. He didn't like guns particularly, but it was a necessary evil of the job. Like the mountainous piles of paperwork he had to endure most months, admittedly, mostly generated by himself.  
  
Instead of taking the state-issue SUV that the CBI supplied him with, he used the blue Citroen he had inherited from his father. It was the one possession of his dad's that he'd kept; looking in the mirror was often more than enough to remind him of the monster his father had become. Jane shivered; when he'd been ten years old, he had always felt himself bursting with pride when somebody said he was truly his father's son. Now, it seemed more like a curse he'd been afflicted with, something he would never be able to get rid of, however hard he tried. If he was less like his father, then maybe he would have been able to adhere to the rulebook that little bit better, and then he would actually be able to do his job without a suspension every six months or so. At least, for the most part, Virgil Minelli thought he was worth the additional hassle. If it wasn’t for him, then he wouldn’t have a job at all or he’d be stuck in some backwater dump where his ‘genius’ would have been even less appreciated than it was in Sacramento.  
  
The shooting range was mercifully quiet, with only two other people there when Jane arrived. In the parking lot, he smiled when he recognized one of the cars. Having a friend inside would make the time pass by much quicker. Whether or not she was going to be as pleased to see him remained to be seen. As a consequence, he signed in hurriedly, stashed his belongings in a locker and prepared himself mentally for going to shoot. The sound of gunshots made him jump for a second, but he quickly settled down; it was in a controlled environment, ergo there was no danger whatsoever.  
  
He grabbed hold of a pair of bright yellow ear defenders and snapped them over his ears. Then, he sauntered over to the petite brunette and placed a hand on her right shoulder just as soon as she finished firing off a round. Teresa Lisbon practically jumped out of her skin at the gentle touch. She placed her firearm down, wheeled around on her heels and Jane narrowly avoided getting punched in the face. It wasn't for the first time either, he mused. Jane smiled warmly at her, but Lisbon shot him a dirty glare. Carefully, they both slid the defenders off of one ear and it was only then that she spoke to him.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here, Jane?" she muttered irritably.  
  
"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, still grinning. "At least using a gun is a part of my job description."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I do have my license, you know."  
"No I didn't," Jane answered softly and he took a step back. "You're quite good. When did you learn?"  
  
"My dad taught me,” she replied frankly and Jane was surprised that she had brought up her absent father at all. “He wanted to make sure I had no fear of them and that I could always defend myself when necessary. I always come down here after a stressful day to let off some steam."  
  
Jane nodded in response. He hadn't expected Lisbon to be quite so open with her reasoning behind getting her firearm license. But then, her justification made complete sense. Although she had never gone into detail about her upbringing, Jane knew that it had been unusual and that she had never attended high school, never mind college. If her lifestyle had once been just as risky as she had insinuated on occasion, then it made sense that her overprotective father had made every effort to ensure she could keep herself safe. Especially so when her mother had died shortly after the birth; that much, he had been able to discover through a little research shortly after Lisbon had become associated with his team.  
  
Lisbon turned away at that moment, put her ear defenders back on and fired off another round. Jane watched, admiringly, from the background. She seemed more at ease with the gun in her hand than many cops did; it was quite the contradiction. Not once had Lisbon shown any inclination towards her ability to handle weapons in the past. And also, it was a rather alarming development. Lisbon had made it clear from the very beginning that Red John was the principle reason she had offered her services to the CBI. If she ever got her hands on the serial killer, just what were her intentions for him? Jane didn't want to see her behind bars, or worse, for exacting revenge on the bastard who killed her family. After everything that had gone wrong in her life, she didn't deserve that. And yet, he understood the impetus for it entirely. If he knew the identity of the person who had killed his mom, he couldn't say he would sit in silence. He would do everything to bring about justice for her - and his father by default - even if that meant taking the law into his own hands. In fact, Jane knew that the exact same would apply to Red John too. He’d caused so much pain and misery, that even death was too good for somebody like him.  
  
"Have you ever had to use a gun out of the shooting range?" Jane asked when Lisbon was scrutinizing the results of her latest round.  
  
She hesitated for a second, as if she were trying to decide between lying and telling the truth. "Once," she admitted quietly and she glanced at her feet. Jane immediately knew that she had opted for honesty in this case. "I was just a kid; we got attacked when advertising the carnival."  
  
"Did you..." he trailed off quickly.  
  
"I missed, but the shot was more than enough to scare them off."  
  
"Good."  
  
He wondered if she was haunted by the only time she had used a gun in self-defense, like he was for each and every time he had to pull the trigger. The ghosts of the past came out to haunt him at night, to taunt him for bending the law to breaking point. They accused him of failing in his position as a police officer, told him that if he were a better cop, he would have been able to arrest them and allow the law to take care of justice. Instead, he had killed them, murdered them in cold blood. If he'd believed in Hell, he would have taken their accusations that he would shortly be following them there seriously. As it was, it made him question: just because he had a badge, did that really make the fact he had taken a life any different? Technically, of course, it did. But a life was a life, regardless of what the people had been responsible for in the past.  
  
And that was why he avoided using his gun at all costs. Whenever he was with Cho, Jane could see that his second in command was just as reluctant to use a firearm as he was, if not to actually draw it. Jane knew that Cho had suffered from an equally tragic past; his time in gangs and the army had most likely taught him to respect the weapon but not to take it for granted either. Cho was haunted, too, but in a very different way to Jane. He seemed like he had been able to come to terms with any deaths he’d been responsible for much more easily. But then, Cho didn’t feel partially responsible for the deaths of two members of his family, either. Lisbon, however, while she knew how to use a gun, she didn't have those problems when it came to the use of firearms. She needn't regret using it as a warning, but that made her all the more dangerous. One of these days, Jane could see her being changed by the use of it and specifically, if she ended up using it against Red John. He could only hope that that day would never come. He made a mental note to keep a quiet eye on his consultant; he couldn't let her get out of control, like he did on all too frequent occasions. That also meant he would have to learn how to temper his antics at work. He couldn’t watch over her, he couldn’t _save_ her, if he was almost constantly on suspension.  
  
For another hour, as the sun slowly made its descent and set outside, they continued to shoot without exchanging any words. Occasionally, Jane stopped to spend the time watching Lisbon and her style. He was almost surprised to see she was better than him, but then, he knew he was lousy considering he was a senior agent for the CBI. There were rookies coming straight out of the academy who were far better shots than he was. Eventually, Lisbon put away her weapon and Jane became aware that she was assessing his each and every move. As a consequence, his shooting immediately went downhill and it irked him. It felt like his consultant was better at his job than he was. And besides, he desperately wanted her approval. Considering her history, Teresa Lisbon was remarkably level headed and sensible and he liked – almost envied – that about her. Even though they didn't really know each other outside of the office, Jane knew that he could trust her to the ends of the earth. He sincerely doubted that she would have that same faith in him.  
  
"Have you ever been taught to shoot properly?" she enquired when he slid off his ear defenders as he inspected the damage.  
  
"Of course I have," he answered back abruptly.  
  
"Your stance is wrong. And the way you’re breathing is too."  
  
Lisbon encouraged him to pick up his Glock and he did so obligingly. She placed one of her hands gently on his waist and the other over his weapon. Carefully, she maneuvered him until the gun was in line for a kill shot on the target. It felt foreign having her so close by, touching him even. Lisbon had never been one for being tactile; he had challenged that in her on occasion, but it had always made her withdraw further away from him. So, he genuinely appreciated the fact she was actually making the effort to get closer to him now. Silently, he reminded himself that there was a reason behind it: she was trying to help him improve at his job. There was no other hidden meaning behind her actions at all. But then, even if there was, she was remarkably good at concealing her thoughts from him. Maybe he would have been oblivious to it if there was?  
  
"Feel the shot. Only fire when you're breathing out; it needs to come from inside of you,” she explained in a low and gentle tone. “The gun must feel like a natural extension of your body."  
  
Slowly Jane closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, as he had been instructed to do so. A part of him almost swore that he had surprised Lisbon by actually listening to her instruction. Even so, he was used to different breathing techniques like this, to assist with his sleeping, but they rarely worked. Not once had he thought to apply it to the use of his firearm. When it had evened out, he could still feel Lisbon's gentle touch on his body and he relaxed into it. Then, he let out the breath he had been holding and as he did so, he pulled the trigger. Jane winced as the sound of the bullet cut through the air; they had both forgotten to replace their defenders. However, the bullet tore through the paper precisely where the heart had been marked out. Gingerly, Jane clicked the safety back on and Lisbon let go of him, almost as if she had suddenly found their close proximity inappropriate. He turned to face her and she smiled wryly.  
  
"Easy," she muttered lowly. "I can't believe nobody taught you that."  
  
"People just expect cops to be a natural at it," Jane replied with a shrug.  
  
"Everything needs practice," Lisbon countered and she took a few steps back. "I'll see you when you're back at work, Jane. It’s been… good to see you."  
  
He watched as she took a couple of steps away. It was strange how he felt like he should know her so well and yet, in actuality, she was a bit of a mystery to him. Deep down, Jane knew that he wanted to spend more time with her and not just at work. He wanted her approval, as her boss, he deserved her trust and he wanted to keep her close. It felt safer that way.  Automatically, he started to follow her, but she seemed almost oblivious to the fact.  
  
"Teresa, wait,” he eventually called when it was clear she had expected him to stay behind.  
  
Swiftly, she turned on her heels and eyed him quizzically. Jane never usually felt this disconcerted to talk to her, but he swallowed down any nerves. He wasn’t asking her to marry him; instead, he was offering out a hand of friendship. In a strange sort of way, he knew that they could both do with more friends, more people they could rely upon.  
  
"Yes?" she asked.  
  
"Let me take you out for a drink," he suggested and she began to shake her head. "As thanks for your help, nothing else. Nothing… inappropriate."  
  
She didn’t answer him immediately, and the silence that enveloped them felt tortuous to Jane. "Okay," she eventually murmured. “I’d like that.”  
  
He was relieved that she hadn’t disappeared and left him by the time he had managed to gather together all of his belongings. Immediately, Lisbon offered to drive and Jane complied; he knew she trusted his beloved blue Citroen even less than she trusted him. Besides, she had work in the morning, whereas he was still waiting for the PSU to actually make a decision on his case. He hoped they wouldn’t take too much longer; they should have been used to him and his issues by now. They had probably already lost count of the number of times they had dealt with him already.  
  
Lisbon was quiet as she drove sedately. He let her pick out which bar to go to; he had a feeling that allowing her some sense of control would mean she would be more inclined to trust that he was being genuine with his offer. Jane dedicated so much of his life to work, that it was almost a novelty to be able to go out to a bar with somebody he wanted to consider as a friend. He still knew that Lisbon was going to be hard work though; she built up barriers and defended them to the extreme. It was understandable why; she was scared that if she let anybody else get close to her, then they would inevitably end up getting hurt. With Red John as a personal enemy, it was clear that she rarely felt safe as each day went by.  
  
Conversation was initially stilted, as it had been in Lisbon’s family home. Jane knew that Lisbon always had trouble opening up about her feelings, and especially the past. He couldn’t blame her for that, but then, he wished she would just learn that she could trust him. He wasn’t about to hurt her, nor would he abuse that trust. The only time he took risks was when he was at work, and that was simply to push cases forwards. It was his job to close cases, after all, and the one thing he felt like he was any good at. She continued to stare aimlessly out of the window, as her finger trailed across the rim of her wine glass. Jane wondered if this had anything to do with her deceased husband, if she was thinking that she was betraying him for merely having a drink with a co-worker. But that was all this was, just a drink. He was being entirely open with his intentions; he liked and cared about Teresa Lisbon, she was one of his team. Anything else he may or may not have felt, he buried deep down, anyway.  
  
It was only when the conversation moved onto the work, and specifically, their current cases, that Jane was able to coax Lisbon out of her shell a little. Jane had already been away from work for several days, and thus, a couple of new cases had landed on their doorstep. He hated feeling out of touch with work, and he was glad that Lisbon had decided to take the chance on opening up to him about them. Naturally, he shared his insights with her, in the hope that she would pass the message onto Cho and the rest of the team. Just because he was on suspension, it didn’t mean he didn’t want to help on the cases. If he was there, he knew he would have been throwing his all into finding these killers. As it was, focusing on purely Red John was driving him insane.  
  
And that was why he had leapt at the opportunity to spend more time with Teresa Lisbon when he’d seen her down at the shooting range. Not just because he could catch up with the current cases, and not just because he liked and admired his consultant, but because she offered him a much needed reprieve and distraction from the confines of his own mind. In theory, Jane also knew that he could have spent the time catching up with his errant brothers, but that was always difficult. Ever since he had left the family home, chasing his dreams to become a cop, his brothers had grown increasingly more distant with him, especially Tommy. Now, they seemed to resent him for leaving them for dust, and had bandied together against him. Jane had dragged the three of them up after the death of their father, and now, they wanted nothing to do with him as a result. So be it, he thought. At least he knew he had his team for support, if all else failed. Sometimes, he swore they were like a surrogate family to him.  
  
“What do you think of Van Pelt, Teresa?” he enquired, shifting the subject ever so slightly.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“What do you think of her?” he repeated, persistent. “Do you think she’ll make a good agent? Do you think she’ll fit into the team?”  
  
“She’s sweet and seems to get on well with the team. Naïve, though. She needs to grow a thicker skin if she’s going to make it in law enforcement,” Lisbon paused for a second to take a sip of her drink. “I also think she needs the leadership of a good senior agent around, instead of somebody who is constantly on suspension.”  
  
Lisbon smirked when she finished her statement and Jane quirked his head slightly in response. This was the most open – and most critical – she had ever been about Jane and his position at work. He wasn’t offended though, what she had stated was the absolute truth. However, even when Minelli tried to rein him in, it only served to make Jane react contrarily. And thus, it had led to him growing increasingly out of control. But Lisbon was right; Van Pelt was young and needed guidance as a cop. He had a responsibility to her, one which he was currently failing.  
  
“What are you insinuating, Ms. Lisbon?” he asked, with a grin which contradicted his statement.  
  
She was about to defend herself when Jane’s cellphone rang out. Jane held out a slender finger to silence her as he checked who the caller was. When he realized it was Cho, he frowned and immediately took the call. Lisbon listened in intently, but Jane ignored her. Instead, he focused entirely on what his second in command had to say, and as the situation developed, his frown deepened and he grew increasingly concerned. This was the last thing he wanted – or needed – to hear. And already, he was dreading telling Lisbon the sorry news. Without saying a word directly to her, he knew what kind of reaction she was going to have to it. Eventually, he bid Cho farewell and promised he would be there as soon as feasibly possible.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Lisbon asked softly.  
  
“It’s Red John,” he said by way of explanation. “We have to go. Now.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jane clarified what he knew, telling her exactly where they were about to head to. Lisbon placed down her drink as she considered what Jane had just told her. Red John had killed again, in his motel and his room, to be precise. Immediately, she wondered what exactly he had been up to prior to turning up somewhat unexpectedly at the shooting range. And in an instant, she found herself questioning everything she knew about her boss, his motives, his daily insanity, and the way he solved cases. He was the most oddball cop she had ever come across, and it had always seemed like such a contradiction. Was this the reason why he was like this? Was he genuinely hiding the fact that he was Red John behind his madness? Was that the reason he had been so keen to hire her in the first place? After all, they did say ‘keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer’.  
  
She shook her head and downed the rest of her drink, but remained rooted to the chair. Jane was about to head to the door, when he realized she hadn’t automatically started to follow her. Lisbon watched as he slowly turned back around and returned to the table. He stared pointedly at her, but she remained mute. She was too busy trying to figure out what was real and what was fabricated in her mind. When it came to Red John, Lisbon knew that she had a tendency to let her imagination run wild. However, she couldn’t help but question ‘what if?’  
  
“What were you doing before you met me at the shooting range?” she questioned slowly.  
  
“I was at the motel, reading the Red John case files. Why?” he replied.  
  
“Just wondering,” she answered noncommittally, but the look on Jane’s face suggested that he had already realized what she was implicating.  
  
"Teresa, you cannot seriously be thinking that I am Red John."  
  
"I don't know,” she answered back heatedly. “I barely know you."  
  
"We have worked together for a _year_."  
  
"But does that really mean we know each other? Outside of work just how many conversations have we shared?"  
  
"That’s because you make every effort to ostracize yourself. Seriously, you _have_ to trust me. I am _not_ Red John."  
  
Her shoulders sagged in defeat. "I know, I know. It's just..."  
  
"You want answers? I know that Teresa. But I have an alibi, remember?” he said defensively. “I’ve been with you the whole time.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Now, can we actually stop wasting time and get to the crime scene, please?”  
  
They drove back to Jane's motel in a stony silence. Just because they had talked, and just because she had half-admitted she was wrong to accuse him in such a way, it still wasn’t enough to clear the air between them. Lisbon was glad that she was driving; it gave her something else to focus on instead of Patrick Jane and Red John. However, that didn’t mean it was exactly working as a distraction. The fact that the serial killer had struck again worried Lisbon immensely, especially as it had occurred so soon after the copycat case. She had genuinely believed they had gotten through that case unscathed, but quite obviously, she had been entirely wrong on that front. But then, there were the darker thoughts that her mind desperately wanted to toy with. What if Jane himself had been responsible for this death? What if Jane _was_ Red John and he had been blatantly lying about his apparent innocence? She thought she was a good judge of character and of course, she had years of experience at reading people, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was right every single time. And although she didn't entirely trust him to run a case properly, or to even be there if she needed him, she thought she trusted that he wasn't Red John.  Besides, it didn’t seem as though she had much choice in the matter at this specific moment in time.  
  
And at the end of his call with Kimball Cho, Jane's face had been ashen from the sheer revelation. He hadn't expected to hear that kind of news; his reaction had been one of genuine shock. Of course, the more sensible part of her brain realized that this must be a message from the serial killer. Red John had been unhappy about how he had been copied and he wanted retribution, something which they had stolen away from him by arresting Wyatt. How else was he going to make his distaste known other than by murder? What scared Lisbon the most was that this was a direct attack on Patrick Jane, too. Red John toyed with people's lives like a cat with a mouse, but was it just because Jane was in charge of the case or because she was slowly but surely letting him get closer to her? Whichever, she knew she was playing a dangerous game.  
  
And that it would probably be far safer for Jane and his unit if she wasn't involved with them at all. She had never told him, but shortly after her husband and daughter's murder, her father had had her institutionalized. Lisbon was deeply ashamed of her breakdown; especially so as people often commented on just how 'well' she had coped with the tragedy. In truth, she had barely coped with it at all; even now, the only reason she managed to get up in the mornings was because she had a job to do. Worse, after she had been released from the psychiatric ward and Dr. Sophie Miller's care, Red John had contacted her. Lisbon still had the note that he had sent her and she had never shown it to another living soul. All it confirmed was that the game was still on and that he was looking forward to seeing what her next move would be.  
  
Her next move had been to join the CBI. It seemed natural, especially after she had discovered that the case had been passed onto them from the Sac. P.D. Briefly, she wondered if Red John actually had the hubris to kill them directly instead of this indirect act. He probably did, but was saving such an audacious act for a more ‘appropriate’ time. Silently, as she gripped hold of the steering wheel ever so slightly tighter, Lisbon reminded herself that they still didn't know for certain that this had been Red John. They were still taking Cho's word for it. Only when she saw that bloody smiley face with her own two eyes and made note of the rest of the crime scene, did she have to believe it. Until then, it was just supposition and hearsay. But yet again, at the mere mention of Red John, Lisbon had let her imagination run wild, to the extent of accusing Jane of being involved with the serial killer.  
  
"I'm sorry. For lashing out," she murmured as they pulled into the motel's parking lot. "I have thought things through."  
  
He touched her lightly on the arm and she flinched. "Don't be."  
  
She vacated the car quickly and headed straight towards Cho, who was waiting outside for them patiently. The whole floor where Jane's room was had been cordoned off to the general public and several irate customers were huddled around a stressed-out manager. Despite there being good reason for being kicked out of their rooms, people still couldn’t seem to understand that the murder had to take precedence over their comfort. Then, she could understand their stance: there was nothing you could do for the dead once they were dead. All they could do now was bring the killer to justice and pray that the deceased was taken into the loving hands of God. Lisbon neatly hopped over the yellow tape and Cho nodded at her, a frown etched between his eyebrows. It was the only sign of tension that was apparent in Jane's second in command. Cho was a man who was remarkably in control of his tells; it had taken Lisbon a good six months before she was able to read him effectively.  
  
When Jane finally joined them, Cho took them both up to the crime scene. Automatically, Lisbon fell into step behind the two of them and was relieved that there was somebody else to break up the tense atmosphere that had enveloped them. Then again, everyone was tense. This was a major crime scene and it was to be expected. Worse, this was Red John and although they hoped the killer would be caught this time, there was an unwritten agreement that he was just as likely to escape once again. Only later on in an investigation did the black humor, the ability to actually crack a smile and the like, take over. For now, they had to respect the deceased.  
  
The door to Jane's room had been left ajar and forensics people were buzzing around like flies. Through the gap, she could already see the trademark smiley face and her heart began to thrum erratically in her chest. This was the first _real_ mark of Red John that she had seen since her family had died. Naturally, all the flashbacks which she had only just been able to put back in place since the copycat killer all came flooding back. Lisbon closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she dared to step inside. This was going to be very difficult. Now she was hear, she was already convinced that Red John himself was responsible; this wasn’t a fabrication carried out by an inexperienced amateur like last time around.  
  
Although Jane had invaded her privacy both in Sacramento and Malibu, this was the first time that Lisbon had seen where Jane spent his nights with her own two eyes. As it was simply an extended stay motel, she wasn't surprised in the slightest that he hadn't made any efforts to personalize the space. What was the point if he was only going to leave soon anyway? However, there were small signs which meant she could tell that Jane had already spent a long while there. There was a pile of mail just beside the TV, the prescription sleeping pills on the bedside table and assorted toiletries in the bathroom cabinet. Other little details gave it away, too and Lisbon couldn’t help but sigh. Although Jane was probably seriously considering finding somewhere proper to stay, Lisbon knew it was something he kept leaving for later. He was so busy with work and finding a house just wasn't of any great importance in comparison. It wasn’t as if he had a wife and children to support, and his three brothers were all estranged anyway.  The motel had provided him with a roof over his head, access to clean running water and a soft bed to lie in at night. That was all he needed in order to get by.  
  
But then, however interesting it was, an insight into Jane's living conditions wasn't the reason she was actually here. The smiley face on the wall was. It was the only obvious blemish in an otherwise polished room. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed; there were no blood spatters on the pristine white bed sheets and no signs of a struggle. And there was no body in plain sight either; this was a break from Red John’s usual M.O., just as his previous murder had been.  
  
"Where's the body?" Van Pelt piped up suddenly; Lisbon hadn't even realized she was there.  
  
Almost immediately in response, Lisbon was down on her hands and feet. Then she spotted the body of a young woman in a prim dress, complete with apron under the bed. She shuddered in revulsion when she saw the all too familiar cutting style of Red John. The blood had clotted over before she had been placed here; Jane's rooms hadn't been the murder site. Instead, the body had been moved there after the fact, and the smiley face had been painted after she had been positioned. Jane quickly followed suit and Lisbon could tell that he knew who this victim was.  
  
"Who was she?" Lisbon asked him after she stood up.  
  
"Her name is Maria Escobar. She worked as a cleaner here," Jane answered in a somber tone. "She was going to leave in a month, to go to college. She really wanted to make a better future for herself and her daughter."  
  
"I'm sorry," Lisbon murmured, but Jane just shook his head sadly.  
  
She suspected that the cleaner was the first personal acquaintance of Patrick Jane's that Red John had actually killed. Just because she hadn't been a close relative or family friend, it didn't make it any less shocking. The simple fact that he had known Maria Escobar on some level made it all the more personal. Red John had selected her for a reason; there was a hidden message behind it. He was getting closer and closer to them with his each and every mood. Jane was in an uncharacteristic dour mood and justifiably so. It could so easily have been him; if he had been home when Red John had chosen to strike, then they might have been discovering his body in the early hours of the morning too.  
  
But then, Red John had probably been watching Jane’s every move and for a considerable amount of time too. Everything he did was pre-planned, right down to where, when and who he killed. Only twice had somebody forced his hand and Lisbon was walking evidence of that. She shuddered; that meant he was probably somebody they had passed in the street, or even knew. It was entirely possible that she had even shaken his hand and nodded a hello at him. Of course, that didn't limit the number of suspects either. In her old job, she had met people from all walks of life and made numerous enemies out of them too. Any one of them could still hold a grudge; any one of them could have even been the serial killer without her realizing it at the time.  
  
This was the first time that Red John had murdered since she had become attached to the CBI. Or at least, it was the first time he had killed and attached the resulting death to his infamous pseudonym. Lisbon didn't doubt that he had probably killed many people that they didn't even know about as well. They were the ones he wanted to disappear without people knowing about it, and of course, they were the cases that were lingering in the ever-increasing pile of cold cases. However, the relevance of this death, the relevance of it being somebody that Jane knew, the positioning of the body, none of that was lost on her. Red John wanted everyone to know that he was back with a bang. His hiatus during her institutionalization and subsequent recovery had only ever been temporary. Now his adversary was ready to be taken on properly, he was more than happy to step up to the plate.  
  
Red John wanted her to know that she could never escape him too. That he could pick and choose to kill somebody she allowed herself to get close to, even Patrick Jane himself wasn't off limits. After all, Red John had killed two other men previously when he'd deemed it necessary; his preference for young women didn't mean anything at all. And then there was the fact he had chosen to hide the body: it was a metaphor. Red John was hiding in plain sight, he could surprise them at any given time and they would be none the wiser. In short, Red John held all the cards in his hands and they remained, rather pathetically, at least three steps behind him.  
  
"Jane," Lisbon said quietly.  
  
"Yes, Lisbon?"  
  
"We won't get much more from here; we need to find the place she was actually killed."  
  
Jane immediately nodded in agreement and quickly gave out his orders. "Rigsby, look in all the other rooms, including the staff room, laundry and kitchens. If we find the place this poor girl was killed, we might have a chance to catch this bastard. Make sure you question any other customers you happen to come across. You never know, they may have seen or heard something. Van Pelt, Cho, canvass the neighborhood. Pay particular attention to the nearby alleyways and the parking lot. Help Rigsby when you're done. Lisbon, you're with me."  
  
Lisbon couldn't help but think that Van Pelt was being thrown in at the deep end. However, there was no such thing as an easy job in law enforcement. The sooner she learned the ropes, the better. And besides, a difficult case such as this one was going to teach her a hell of a lot more than one which resulted in her staring aimlessly at a computer screen for hours on end. She swallowed as she took her position beside Jane; she knew they were most likely going to question the other staff on duty before going to inform the dead girl's next of kin. That was always the next step in an investigation, regardless of whether or not it was just an 'average' murder or the most notorious serial killer that California had to offer.  
  
They watched as the team left to carry out their assigned duties. None of them argued; they all knew they had an important role to play in this investigation. Lisbon automatically started to head for the door, but Jane held a single finger up to her and she stopped abruptly. With a look of interest, she watched as he carefully headed over to the bed. In one swift movement, he lifted up the mattress to see what was underneath it. Nothing was there, and Jane’s frown deepened. He turned on his heels to face Lisbon and she mouthed a ‘what?’ at him. Jane shook his head, and quickly checked the rest of his room for any missing objects. It was only when he had finished looking over the place with a proverbial fine tooth comb that he turned to Lisbon and actually shared the problems that were on his mind.  
  
“The abridged case file. It’s gone,” he muttered, and he sounded very angry with himself.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Jane didn’t need to specify which abridged case file was missing; there was only one he’d been working on during his suspension and only one that was of any particular importance to them. Of course, all case files were important, because of confidentiality and such, but Red John was only going to be interested in one and that was his own. Lisbon felt as though her breathing had been constricted for a brief second as she considered the repercussions of this. If Red John had his abridged case files, then that meant he knew precisely where the CBI was when it came to his investigation. It meant that he knew just how close – or how far away – they were from arresting him, or worse. It also meant that he could take action to ensure he remained at large. And Lisbon knew perfectly well that when it came to ‘action’ Red John only had one thing in mind, and that was murder. As Jane had inadvertently allowed the abridged Red John case file to end up in said serial killer’s hands, he had automatically put all their lives in even more risk than they already were.  
  
Without saying another word, Lisbon vacated the room. There was nothing they could do about that, not anymore. At least, she told herself, it was only the abridged version. Important developments in the case had yet to be filed in the abridged version; it was for this very reason that only partial copies of case files were allowed out of the CBI headquarters. And besides, they had leads to chase up and people to question. If they wasted time worrying about this, then they wouldn’t have a chance to apprehend Red John this time around. As far as Lisbon was concerned, there needn’t be a next time, if they could capitalize on the developments that had been put forwards in this specific Red John case.  
  
Once they reached the bottom of the staircase, Jane abruptly turned around and placed his hands on each of her shoulders. Lisbon tried to turn away, but Jane kept a firm but gentle grip on her; she wasn't going anywhere. He stared intently into her eyes and she furrowed her brow in response. Jane was worried about her and _for_ her too. That much was obvious from his darkening expression. He was scared that she was going to go off the rails again, or pull away from him even more so than she already had. And he was right; she was sick of playing the dangerous game. It was something she had been forced into all of her life, with no thanks to her good for nothing (and now, uncharacteristically absent) father. Now, after the brutal death of her family, the situation only seemed to be escalating.  
  
"Teresa, I can't have you pulling away from me," he stated firmly.  
  
"I'm fine, Jane. Honestly," she replied, lying as she did so.  
  
"If I believed that, then I'd believe anything."  
  
"C'mon, let's get on with this," she replied, ignoring the problem.  
  
Maria Escobar's family took the news far better than Lisbon had when she had been in their shoes. Her father wore a look of resignation, like he had expected his daughter to be discovered dead one day. The mother, meanwhile, remained stubbornly silent and clung hold of her sleeping granddaughter. When the young girl awoke, her whole world was going to be turned upside down and Lisbon's heart broke for her. If there was one thing she was grateful for in her own sorry situation, then that was the fact her daughter wasn't going to grow up motherless. Lisbon had been there herself and she wouldn't have wished it on anybody. Although she didn't like Mr. Escobar's demeanor especially, Lisbon knew that he had very little of use to tell them, except for the simple fact that his daughter had a tendency of associating with the wrong people.  
  
They quickly headed back to the motel, and remained in that same stubborn silence as they did so. Part of Lisbon wished she had the capability of opening up to Jane, but the rest of her knew that was unwise. Red John had used this death as a message to them, and she was going to heed his advice, unless absolutely necessary. She had already led her husband and daughter to their deaths and she wasn't about to do the same to Jane and his team. When they arrived, Van Pelt updated them on the situation; they had found where the girl had been murdered, but no obvious clues to lead to Red John. Rigsby, meanwhile, had managed to corral all the present staff into one room. None of them looked particularly impressed by the development; some of them had crossed their arms and were tapping their feet in disgust. Their attitude annoyed Lisbon; a colleague had met their brutal demise nearby and these people were only interested in getting the job done and getting back home.  
  
There was only one person who she found particularly interesting in this crowd. One man loitered at the back and he had his head buried in his newspaper. He acted completely oblivious to what was going on around him and didn't even respond when Jane started asking the group a few basic questions. In fact, nobody was of much use at all. Then again, it was getting late and most of them should have finished their shift at least half an hour ago. If a dead body hadn't been discovered, then they would already have been home with their loved ones or at the very least, otherwise engaged. When she was getting frustrated with their responses to Jane's question, Lisbon tapped him gently on the shoulder and he stepped aside and allowed her to take the lead.  
  
"Right,” she said clearly and immediately, the vast majority of people in the room paid attention to her. “I don't care what you think of Maria Escobar as a person; you could want to dance on her grave and it wouldn't matter to me. What does bother me is the simple fact she was brutally killed by Red John in the alleyway opposite this motel. And somebody in this room knows about it because _they_ helped to set it up."  
  
Lisbon paused for a second while her blunt statement settled in the room. A couple of people started nervously chattering about it. Jane had spent his time questioning them skirting around the Red John issue, in the hope that one individual would end up hanging themselves with it by bringing him up. Now that she had revealed that the serial killer was responsible, she had suddenly caught their attention. Now, it wasn't just their stupid co-worker stupidly getting herself killed in the room rented out by a cop, of all people. Instead, this was something they could gossip about for years. Red John had been here and he had killed here. Now, it was dramatic and exciting. When almost everybody had started chattering between themselves, Lisbon silenced them with a swift motion of her hands. Once more, she had them on tenterhooks.  
  
"And I know who is responsible."  
  
"Oh yeah?" someone asked skeptically.  
  
"How so?" somebody else called out.  
  
"I used to work as a psychic. I can tell these things," she explained plainly.  
  
A couple of people expressed their skepticism, but Lisbon ignored them. Their disbelief was of little importance to the current situation. Slowly, she started weaving her way through her rapt audience. This reminded her of exactly what she used to do when her whole life was controlled by her dad. Get the audience hooked, and then drop the bombshell which would leave people talking for days, weeks, months even. But this time, it wasn't so that she and her family could make a quick buck; instead, it was for the greater good. It was somewhat unlikely, but there was the possibility that this could lead to a link to Red John. She just had to play her cards right.  
  
Eventually, she settled in front of the man with the newspaper, the only person who was yet to give her his undivided attention. Every other pair of eyes remained glued to her, Jane's included. The year she had spent working with him thus far meant that she knew he loved watching her play these mind games on people, he'd always found them especially impressive. Lisbon smiled as the man stubbornly stared at the article he was supposedly reading. He did everything possible to avoid meeting her gaze and Lisbon knew exactly why he was behaving in such a way. Slowly she raised her hand and pointed directly at him.  
  
"You," she stated plainly.  
  
The man carefully folded up his paper and slipped it under the crook of his arm. He regarded Lisbon for a second, as if it were the first time he had ever seen her. However, despite the fact he had been stubbornly reading his paper, he had been taking furtive glances at her every so often from the very beginning of the interview, before Jane had even introduced her to the crowd. ** ~~.~~** He had been checking that she wasn't getting any closer to him, and now she was standing right in front of him, Lisbon could see the fear in the very whites of his eyes.  
  
"Me what, Ma'am?" he enquired, acting oblivious.  
  
"You know Red John."  
  
"I have no idea..."  
  
He trailed off suddenly and then threw the newspaper in Lisbon's face. A door - one of two exits to the staff room - was situated just behind him. The man had planned where he was going to stand to perfection; he already had an escape route worked out. Lisbon wasn't surprised in the slightest when he took opportunity of the distraction and ducked out the door, in order to take flight down the corridor behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Before they had even started to question the employees, Jane had positioned the rest of his team outside of both exits from the staff room for just this scenario. If any employees had been involved both he and Lisbon had suspected that they would try and make their escape before they had finished talking to the employees together. Therefore, Jane was relieved to see Wayne Rigsby dragging the handcuffed suspect back to the SUV. It hadn't taken all that much effort for him to break either, so Jane was hopeful that it wouldn't take much pressure for him to break once again during a proper questioning. However, that could wait until morning. The man could be safely held in one of their holding cells and left to stew for the rest of the night. Jane yawned expansively; the goings on of the night was catching up with him.  
  
Lisbon turned up beside him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. He smiled warmly at her and they fell into step beside each other as they headed back to the car they had arrived in. She looked emotionally drained and Jane couldn't blame her for that; chasing her family's killer had to take its toll on her, especially at moments like this. He vaguely considered ordering her to go home and rest, but he knew she wouldn't need that. After all, Teresa Lisbon had far more common sense than he had, that much was obvious. For a brief while they lingered together by the vehicle without bothering to actually get in, never mind exchange words. Eventually, it was Jane who broke the uncomfortable silence.  
  
"You did good today," he murmured gently but she shook her head defiantly in response.  
  
"It's not over yet."  
  
"He could be Red John," Jane persisted.  
  
Lisbon pulled a face at the sheer unlikeliness of his statement and realistically, he had to agree with her. They both knew that this man was a mere accomplice, somebody who had been swayed by the false promises of money, love and some sort of affection. These kind of people were easy to turn and easily broken, and thus, didn’t have the mental resolve in order to evade apprehension for many years at a time. Often, they didn’t have the impetus or drive to kill either. They may have been eager to please, but that didn’t mean they had the natural killer instinct that serial killers like Red John had too.  
  
"Please. Red John would never have fallen for a simple trick like that."  
  
"He could still lead us to Red John."  
  
"He might not have even met the man face to face before," Lisbon answered lightly, but without the complete and utter conviction he normally associated with her statements.  
  
Jane sighed. This case had brought out Lisbon's cynical side and that was something he hadn't expected. He'd hoped that she would be optimistic about the prospects of finally putting Red John to bed, but the serial killer had evaded capture for nine years. She couldn't be blamed for thinking their track record was against them. However, they hadn't had her working with them during previous cases and as far as he was concerned, that made all the difference. However, his beliefs in her and her abilities would never have been enough to prevent her own self-doubt from creeping in too. Jane had been there on so many occasions in the past that he couldn’t help but empathize with her plight. Even now, he felt wholly unqualified for the role of special senior agent with the CBI. But other people believed in him, and it was that which gave him the driving force in his career.  
  
"Where are you going to live from now on? Where are you staying tonight?" she asked when Jane didn't answer.  
  
"They have a spare room for me,” Jane replied simply. “They have always offered me a good service here."  
  
It wasn't a lie; they had rewarded him for his loyal custom over the past five years or so. Theoretically, he could have left them a long while ago. Some people had said that he should have done so and gotten himself a nice apartment or townhouse instead. As senior agent, the CBI paid him more than enough to get somewhere decent. Instead, because he felt comfortable, he lingered where he was. He'd seen no cause to leave.  
  
"Jane, Red John knows where you live. He could come back at any time, he could-"  
  
"Teresa," he started, cutting her off abruptly as he did so. "We both know that if Red John wanted to kill one of us - if he wanted to kill anybody - he has the resources to find them, wherever they try to hide."  
  
She remained mute but stared at him darkly. Her look said more than enough. Lisbon believed he was running an unnecessary risk by staying out here and he might as well have been painting a target on his back. And she did have a point: if he stayed here, he was making it all too easy for Red John to find him. But then, maybe that was the point of staying? He could play a double bluff; Red John would expect him to leave because of the threat, not to stay. But then, Jane knew that his defiance was relatively well-known. He didn’t like to play by the rules, so staying out of stubbornness could have been just as expected of him as leaving was. However, the look of concern in Lisbon's eyes suggested she wouldn't stop worrying about him unless he decided to listen to her advice.  
  
"You're really worried about me, aren't you?" he whispered.  
  
Lisbon glanced away, unable to maintain eye contact any longer. Jane knew that if Red John got to him or any of the team, she would just blame himself. She was very good at harboring guilt for things which weren’t entirely her fault, but he couldn’t judge her for that. He tried to reach out to touch her, but she second-guessed his actions and stepped to one side. Lisbon didn’t want his comfort, or pithy words of assurance, she just wanted him to listen to her in this instance. Jane couldn’t say that he never took her advice; sometimes her insight into cases was invaluable, hence the reason she remained on the CBI payroll. However, when it came to their personal lives, they usually kept one another at arm’s length. They were two broken individuals; if they got any closer, it would either work perfectly or be a catastrophe. As it stood at this moment in time, neither one of them was willing to take the risk and let things go further.  
  
“Teresa, I’ll be fine,” he said, though he knew in actuality that he couldn’t guarantee it.  
  
"Come stay with me," she muttered, ignoring his previous statement entirely. "I have a spare room. You can use it until you find somewhere else."  
  
"I’m sorry, but I can't."  
  
"Why not?" she countered and she was practically daring him to give her a legitimate excuse. "It won't be for long. The space isn't being used by anybody else anyway, I have no family..."  
  
She trailed off but the pleading look in her eyes remained. Jane glanced away as he tried to consider the sudden change of attitude that had overcome his consultant. Just hours ago, she had been doing everything within her power to hold him at arm's length, just like they usually did to each other. Now, she was more than happy to have him within her personal space, within her own home. He’d seen the look of revulsion in her eyes, albeit only briefly, when he’d turned up unannounced at her Malibu home, but this was just as – if not, more so, - personal than that. She knew better than most just how much you could tell about a person based on their living quarters. If it wasn't for the lingering fear in her eyes, he would have found the shift in demeanor utterly nonsensical. But Teresa Lisbon was a woman who had paid the ultimate price to Red John and she clearly didn't want to go through that again. But then, who would? All she seemed to want was the knowledge that she had done as much as she could to protect him, unlike she had done so with her family. He tried to touch her shoulder for a second time but once again, she pulled away from the gesture. So, he contented himself with looking her deep in the eyes and this time, she managed to maintain the eye contact. He knew that she found attention disconcerting unless she was the one to instigate it and that was half the reason he was doing it.  
  
"You do know I am at risk regardless of your involvement with the case or not, don't you?" he pressed and she nodded tentatively. "I am in charge of the investigation into his case; what better motive to kill is that? Despite the fact I have spent nearly two years chasing him, I know that the moment I get too close to him and he realizes... that's it. He’ll kill me because I’ll be too much of a liability for him."  
  
"Where are you going with this Jane?" she asked.  
  
"There's no need for you to keep pulling away; we have more of a chance of catching him as a team and that's what you want, right?"  
  
"Why else would I be here?"  
  
"Then if that's the reason you're here, you have to stop working against me and work with me instead. I don't just see you as a subordinate, Teresa. I care,” he replied, keen to convince her that he truly meant it. “If you want me to stay with you tonight - and perhaps for even longer - then you have to let me in too."  
  
"Fine," she answered shortly and he beamed at her. "Are you getting in or not?"  
  
He complied willingly and she almost looked relieved. Jane wondered if she would actually pay any attention to his speech or just pretend to for the sake of getting her own way. Jane genuinely did see her as a friend and he had been sincere with what he said but that didn't necessarily mean she believed him. When it came to her relationships with others, Lisbon was the ultimate skeptic. However, she was worth the fight and her husband had clearly agreed, otherwise he'd never have married her. Still, time would tell whether or not she changed her ways. For now, all he could do was hope that she did.  
  
On the way back to her townhouse, Lisbon drove quietly and sedately. She didn’t complain when he fiddled with the radio, or when he opened and closed the window repeatedly. If anything, she acted oblivious to his presence, however hard he tried to distract her. The roads were quiet though; it was too late for there to be much traffic out. Despite the silence, Jane felt more comfortable this time around, and not just because he was occupying himself with silly activities either. He was beginning to feel more optimistic about both his breakthrough with Lisbon and the case. Vaguely, he wondered how their newest person of interest would react to questioning in the morning. He hoped that letting him stew overnight was the right decision. But then, the man had been easily unnerved just by Lisbon's presence. Being left alone in a cold cell would probably serve to make his mental strength even more fragile. The question remained why Red John had chosen such a character as a follower. Jane knew that his acolytes had to have a certain level of malleability; otherwise he would never have been able to mold them into the shape he required. However, there had to be a balance of mental strength and aptitude too, otherwise they risked telling all if - or when - they were apprehended by the police. But it wasn't really his problem; one of Red John's friends was in their custody and this was the greatest lead they'd had to the serial killer to date.  
  
They pulled up in front of Lisbon's home and all thoughts of Red John quickly vacated Jane's mind. Instead, he had to face the reality of spending the night in Teresa Lisbon's company. She remained wordless as she vacated the vehicle and beckoned him inside. Just hours earlier, she had seen what state he lived in and now it was his turn. He smiled briefly; as far as he was concerned, that seemed perfectly fair to him. After all, she had been the one to freely admit that her sparse Malibu home wasn't representative of how she truly lived and naturally, that had only served to intrigue him further. Part of him doubted that Lisbon would agree with him; she probably just saw it as a necessary evil to keep him safe from Red John. Right now, that was the only thing she cared about.  
  
"Nice place," he murmured in order to make conversation. "I like the paintings. Very autumnal."  
  
"They belonged to the previous tenant; I haven't had much time to personalize the place," she answered back.  
  
With a careful hand, Lisbon encouraged him to move away from the door and Jane instinctively stepped aside for her. He watched, interested, as she locked and bolted the door several times over. It didn't surprise him in the slightest that she was this security conscious. She had learned the hard way just what losses could be incurred if you didn't take necessary precautions. The cop inside of him was proud of her for that; he'd spent a lot of his younger years trying to educate people on how to keep themselves, their family and their belongings safe. It was a tedious chore to carry out, going into schools and doing the same talks over and over, but if it saved at least one life then it was a job worth doing. However, it was also a little too late; nothing would bring her family back. They were gone. But at least she was protecting herself. That was better than nothing.  
  
But then, unlike Lisbon herself, Jane didn't think that Red John saw Teresa Lisbon as a potential victim in the slightest. It did more damage to somebody to kill their family rather than themselves as an individual. Instead, like he carved his followers from raw materials, it seemed like Red John was trying to carve himself a nemesis out of Lisbon. And she already knew how to use a gun; the question was just how far was she willing to go to get the closure she needed from the deaths of her husband and daughter? Regardless, if he killed her, then he wouldn’t be able to continue toying with her for his own enjoyment.  
  
"Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked.  
  
"You own tea? I thought you were strictly a coffee drinker?" he asked, joking.  
  
She shrugged. "Buying it is a force of habit. My husband..."  
  
Immediately she trailed off and Jane wished he could do something to help her. However, he felt paralyzed and the haunted expression on her face practically broke his heart. Her family had been killed approximately two years ago and yet, the woman standing in front of him was still broken. What she did - and continued to do - was remarkable, but for the most part, she wore a mask to protect herself from the real world. This was one of the few chinks in her armor that she had ever allowed him to see a glimpse of. Jane wished he could do something to make it all better for her; she deserved it more than anybody. However, there was only a finite amount of things he could do for her.  
  
"Teresa, I'm..." he started, but he quickly trailed off.  
  
"I know. I'm fine,” she replied, but she sounded anything but fine. “Tea?"  
  
"Yes please."  
  
Jane watched as she fetched out two mugs and prepared herself a coffee alongside his tea. Eventually, she handed him his drink and he thanked her politely for it. Carefully, he wrapped his hands around the warm mug and took a long, grateful sip of the tea. It wasn't badly made, but it hadn't been prepared in the way he'd have preferred it to be, in the way that his mom had taught him before she’d died. Had it been anyone but Lisbon, Jane might have decided to complain. However, he was especially fond of Lisbon and had been since she had joined the team. In fact, he had actively fought Minelli for her position within the unit. Jane's supervisor had been dubious about having somebody so closely related to the Red John case so deeply embroiled in the investigation. Somehow, Jane had managed to convince him that nobody else would fight for the case quite so hard. As it was, it now seemed like Lisbon got along with Minelli better than even he did, and Virgil Minelli had been the sole person to fight in his corner for many years now. Regardless, there was no doubting just how much of a benefit that Teresa Lisbon was to the team and the CBI in general.  
  
Jane watched as Lisbon yawned expansively. They had been sitting in a companionable silence just sipping at their drinks for at least half an hour. But now, it was clear that the day was really beginning to catch up with her, with them both, really. Even Jane felt particularly tired and he had been plagued by sleeping problems since his mom's untimely death. Without a word, Lisbon stood and instinctively, he followed suit. She led him upstairs and to her spare bedroom. It was little more than a study, with just a single bed and chest of draws serving as a bedside table inside, but Jane knew that it would be ample for him for a couple of nights or so. Lisbon had already made it clear that her guest room was rarely used, and thus, Jane wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t put much effort into furnishing it. But still, he wasn't going to let himself put her out for any longer than that; he knew Lisbon was a fiercely private individual who craved her own space. If he stayed with her for too long, then he would drive her to her wit's end.  
  
"There is another comforter in the closet and some spare pillows too, if you need them," she eventually said and he thanked her for it. "And if you need anything else, just ask, okay?"  
  
"I'm not going to disturb you, Teresa. This is already too much. I could have stayed where..."  
  
She held up a hand to silence him and Jane clamped his mouth tightly shut. "I'm not going over this again, Jane. You know it makes sense. I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Lisbon drifted off into her own room and closed the door tightly shut behind her. Jane briefly found himself wondering how the hell she had managed to subvert his authority so subtly on this occasion, but he cast the concerns aside. She was right, he did know it made some sort of sense, and that was why he had ultimately listened to her timely advice. The main reason he had fought back was because of his notorious stubborn streak and because predicting Red John and his behavior felt like it had the same odds as trying to predict the lottery numbers. On the vast majority of occasions, the odds were never going to be in your favor. That was why the statistics for the likelihood of winning the vast fortune were minuscule and why Red John remained at large. One day, he reminded himself, Red John would screw up. He was only human; he wasn't really as unpredictable as the lottery numbers.  
  
Slowly he prepared himself for bed, keeping his gun close by at all times. Though he hated using it, he couldn't help but feel a little safer when he was armed. It gave him a chance to defend himself and those he cared about at the very least. It was only after he had brushed his teeth that he finally placed the firearm down on the bedside cabinet. Then, Jane carefully settled himself down on the bed and pulled the comforter up underneath his chin. It was time for his daily battle against sleep and being in a foreign bed, in a strange house and with company in just the next room too. He stared bleakly at the ceiling and his chest felt a little heavy with disappointment. An hour ago, he had been fighting against the natural instinct to fall asleep. Now he was alone in the peace and quiet of Lisbon's spare room, he was wide awake once again. The irony of this was never lost on him; he just wished that his insomnia would disappear and stop haunting his nights. It felt like a lifetime ago since he had last been able to sleep properly and in truth, it probably was. Even so, he still missed it. It was only natural that he did. Jane just wanted something to be normal in his life, like it had been when he was a kid. But then, it equally seemed like he had a propensity towards chaos, so he attracted the trouble anyway.  
  
The sleep that seemed to have eluded him for hours eventually took over his whole body by two thirty a.m. It was only natural; he hadn't slept well for a long time and his body was in dire need of the rest. He couldn’t fight the instinct, and as tired as he was, he couldn’t be relieved by the development either. The restful sleep with peaceful dreams never came for Patrick Jane. Instead, the nightmares took over; much like they did every time he managed to fall into a deep sleep. They were the same each and every time he actually tried to rest. He watched the ball of fire enveloping his mom's old car, with her trapped inside. He stood on the sidewalk screaming for help, but nobody was willing to help the thirteen year old boy who was crying for him mom and his life. Jane hadn’t actually witnessed the crash; he’d been tucked up in bed at the time, but his imagination had always fueled his nightmares. But so had reality; there was no escaping some aspects of his past. Jane was helpless and could only watch his dad cornering his three younger brothers and slowly pulling out the belt. He remembered the sound of leather cracking against their bare backs, as he tried desperately to intervene. Eventually, Alex Jane turned on his eldest son and used his fists to knock the living daylights out of him. He dreamed of waking up in hospital, with the smell of disinfectant cloying in the air. Then, he returned home to find his father hanging from the staircase by a makeshift noose made out of his own ties. Patrick Jane had buried both his parents by the time he was sixteen years of age.  
  
It had been no life, back then, and he didn't care to remember it much now either, no matter how much it had colored him as an adult. Jane was proud of the fact he had managed to escape such a troubled past. He was also proud of the way his three brothers - Thomas, Daniel and Edward - had turned out in the long run. In a way, Jane knew that he had been partially responsible for their upbringing. After all, they had needed somebody to care for them and teach them the ways of the world after their parents had been laid to rest. But then, he also knew that they resented him for becoming the parental figure, Tommy especially. They hated the fact that he had left them as soon as they were old enough to make their own ways in the world and that he'd ran away to California of all places at the first suitable job offer. They also blamed him for the deaths of both parents as much as he blamed himself for it. If he hadn't contracted the winter vomiting bug, then their mom wouldn't have rushed out to the pharmacy to get some medication. She would never have been on the road and hit by the drunk driver. And thus, his dad wouldn't have turned into a desolate drunk and turned on his own kids as a result. As much as he had saved his brothers from a tragic history and taught them to be responsible adults, he had also been partially responsible for many years of misery.  
  
The nightmares repeated over and over for approximately two hours. It was only when he was watching the fireball go up, hearing the crackle of the flames and seeing the smoke for the third time that he awoke, almost choking on the smoke that wasn't actually present in the room. Jane fumbled for his cell phone and for a second, he forgot exactly where he was. It was only when he had managed to get a hold of his phone and the light illuminated Lisbon’s spare room that Jane remembered exactly where he was and why he was there in the first place. Then, he closed his eyes and took deep, long measured breaths in order to regain control of his breathing. Only when he felt fully in control once again did he vacate his bed and head downstairs. He needed a glass of water.  
  
Jane was fully awake by the time he reached Lisbon’s kitchen and more than a little surprised to see her already sitting at the breakfast bar nursing a cup of coffee. Without a word, Jane joined her and she smiled wryly at him. He wasn’t surprised that she couldn’t sleep either; she probably had as much as him – if not more – running through her mind at this moment in time. After pouring himself a cup of bottled water from the fridge, he carefully slipped onto the stool beside her before taking a measured sip of his drink.  
  
“You couldn’t sleep either?”  
  
“No. I just want to get the questioning over and done with,” she said by way of explanation.  
  
He could understand that. As much as waiting to question their suspect about Red John drove the individual mad, it could also have the same effect on the people waiting to question him. Teresa Lisbon was one of many relatives of victims waiting for answers about Red John and his crime. As for Jane, it was his duty to put criminals behind bars. As thankless a job as it was, it wasn’t about beating criminals, but about showing them that justice can win if they worked hard enough. It was human nature for people to fight and kill; humans were never satisfied with their lot. However, that didn’t mean that that aspect of human nature wasn’t morally abhorrent, though. It was a very complex situation and as a cop, Jane danced on that very fine line.  
  
They didn’t talk all that much over the process of finishing their drinks and eating breakfast. Briefly, Lisbon disappeared to take a shower, but Jane avoided prying as best he could. Instead, he indulged in the luxury of being left alone in her lounge and fingered through her book and CD collection. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he found she had a quite eclectic taste, ever so slightly favoring jazz if anything. However, there was also a singular Spice Girls CD amongst the others, something which amused him immensely. The image of the straight-laced and utterly serious Teresa Lisbon bopping along to nineties pop music seemed like it just shouldn’t work. Jane didn’t mention it by the time she returned, however. Instead, he filed it away for later reference.  
  
The journey to work once again was surprisingly tense. Jane knew that was because they both had the same thing on their mind. Today could well be the day when they finally got a big lead when it came to Red John. It was entirely possible that they could even find out identification, but he wasn’t going to allow himself to get too hopeful. If Jane let himself get too carried away, then the rest of the team would too, and he had to be responsible at least some of the time. He had to show some leadership skills as senior agent, after all. Equally, at the same time, it was entirely possible that he was getting ahead of himself and the time alone had allowed the suspect to regain control of himself. Then, they would get nothing at all from him and be back at square one, proverbially speaking. This case could easily be his big break, but it could also bite him on the ass. And if he was having this many mixed feelings about the latest developments, Jane could only imagine how Lisbon was feeling too.  
  
When they pulled up in the CBI parking lot, Van Pelt rushed to the car. The ashen look on her face immediately concerned Jane and he and Lisbon briefly shared a look of consternation. There were very few reasons for Grace Van Pelt to look quite so harried: either something had happened to Cho or Rigsby, or something had happened to their suspect. At this moment in time, Jane didn’t know which prospect he liked least. When she confirmed that it was the latter, Jane was partially relieved. At least his team was okay and nothing had happened to them. But, this meant that their lead to Red John was quickly disappearing unless they hurried up.  
  
Jane chased Van Pelt through the CBI buildings, and he knew that Lisbon was hot on their heels. He followed her down into the holding cells and the security guards, recognizing the three of them immediately, didn’t even bother to stop them. There, breathless from the unexpected exertion, he stared into the suspects holding cell. It wasn’t empty, as he’d vaguely suspected when he tried to listen to Van Pelt’s nonsensical rambling. Instead, the suspect was frothing at the mouth, his eyes were rolling into the back of his head and his body was convulsing. According to Van Pelt, he had been in such a state for fifteen long minutes already.  
  
He needed immediate medical attention, and even then, there was still the chance he wouldn’t survive at all. Jane stepped aside and allowed medics, who had only just arrived on the scene, access to the cell in order for them to deal with their patient. He knew that he needed to allow them to do their job, just so that he would possibly be able to do his in the future. Even then, there were no guarantees. Jane glanced over his shoulder to peer at his consultant. She was clutching at the cross pendant she always wore around her neck, whispering Hail Mary’s under her breath. If he were a religious man, he’d have been doing the exact same thing.


	7. Chapter 7

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep up that pacing, Teresa," Jane remarked lightly.  
  
They were in his office, waiting for news. In lieu of actually doing anything constructive, Jane was lounging on the battered leather couch opposite the main entrance to the room. Lisbon didn't know where he got it from, and frankly she didn't care. It looked well past its best and she figured he had an unnatural affinity towards it. But then, that was just Patrick Jane all over. He had an inordinate amount of love for bruised and broken things; his car and Lisbon herself were testament to that. There had once been a time when it concerned her just how little he appeared to do during a typical work day. She had actually wondered just how Jane actually managed to keep up with all the paperwork that the job entailed. Then, she realized that he simply did it at night, when nobody else was about to disturb him. Jane was a chronic insomniac; he found it easier to rest during the day when people were around and could focus on the mundane tasks at night. As well as the insomnia, she wouldn't have been surprised if he suffered from separation anxiety too. That would explain why he found it far easier to do everything in reverse to what normal people did.  
  
But for now, Jane and his idiosyncrasies were not the main issue of the day. Their suspect and sole lead to Red John was slowly slipping through their fingers. Lisbon knew that the doctors were fighting tooth and nail to save his life, but sometimes, that just wasn't enough. She clenched her fist and then relaxed it a couple of times. What she hated most was the sense of being out of control; that was another thing that was her father's fault. He had taken charge of her life and as a consequence, she now could not bear it when there was nothing she could do. And that was why she was currently pacing around Jane's office, unable to focus on anything else at all. It was why she was feeling so stressed and like her temper was going to get the better of her, if she wasn't careful. If they just knew, either way, then she would feel much better. Naturally, she would have preferred it if the man survived: they would then be able to discover more about Red John. However, closure either way would have been of some sort of use.  
  
Of course, there was another, more important underlying issue with this specific Red John case. He knew, more or less, everything they knew about him and how he worked. Years of painstaking research had fallen into his possession and naturally, that meant he now had the upper hand. It was all because Jane had taken the abridged files outside of the CBI Headquarters that Red John had gotten hold of them. There was also the not so insignificant issue of precisely who had poisoned their suspect - a case which was quickly turning into a potential murder case. There was also the possibility that it was suicide; for a while, they hadn’t been able to rule that out. However, before placement in holding cells, all suspects were patted down and forced to turn out their pockets in order to weed out potential evidence pertaining to their case, suicide drugs and weapons. Therefore, the obvious – and therefore, most probably correct - answer was most likely that Red John had a mole buried somewhere deep within the CBI.  
  
However, CBI staff were rigorously examined prior to their hiring in order to weed out inappropriate people for the job. Even the lowliest of cleaners was subject to this kind of selection. This was to ensure that every single member of staff on the payroll could be entirely trusted with sensitive confidential information. Even Lisbon had gone through it and despite her murky past, which was mostly due to her father, she had gone through it clear. But this situation was unsettling. One of their number, most likely a security guard as they had the most regular access to the holding cells, was not to be trusted. Somehow, without triggering too much suspicion, they had to discover the identity of this person and question them before they slipped through their fingers. And that was precisely what Wayne Rigsby was working on at this moment in time.  
  
But, it left her with nothing to do. Unless the paper trails brought up someone or something, then there was nobody for her to question or psychoanalyze. There was no crime scene for her to pick through, detail by detail. She just couldn’t make the sharp observations which the team relied upon in some cases with no information whatsoever. In theory, she could have found something else to do, but her mind was so caught up that even Jane was noticing her behavior.  
  
"I'm fine," she answered stiffly and she stopped pacing to stare him down briefly.  
  
"Sure you are. Lisbon, you need to relax."  
  
"This is Red John, Jane. I can't relax."  
  
Jane looked at her skeptically but then, he promptly dropped it. Lisbon was glad; she hated having to explain herself to him, even though he was her boss. Some things she just felt the need to keep fiercely private and she knew that he understood that. After all, he often reacted in exactly the same way to her. She couldn't help feeling the way she did about this case; anyone in her position would react in a similar way too. In fact, some would take it too far and make promises of vengeance and blood being spilled. As far as she was concerned, Jane should have considered himself lucky that his consultant was merely interested in justice. After all, it wasn't just her family who had died at Red John's knife, but many other people too. She couldn't justify to herself being so selfish and taking Red John’s life for herself; every other family and friend of a victim of Red John's deserved closure just as much as she did. Then, there was the issue of her faith. The very thought of killing someone, even in response to their murder of her loved ones, repelled her. Part of the reason she volunteered her services to the CBI was in order to speed up the process for everyone afflicted by him.  
  
Jane's cellphone rang, distracting Lisbon from her train of thoughts and she was glad of it. Sometimes, her mind took her to dark places, ones which she didn’t really like to visit. She watched, somewhat warily, as he made a fuss about answering it. From what she could tell about the half of the conversation that she could hear, it was nothing to do with Red John or their seriously ill contact with him. Instead, it was either a D.A. requesting his time for some mundane meeting or, more likely, a new case which required their expertise. Jane looked grim as he bid the other person farewell and then he stood, stretching the muscles in his back as he did so.  
  
"I have a distraction for you, come on," he instructed.  
  
"New case?" she asked as they left his office in step with one another.  
  
"New case," he echoed.  
  
After rounding up the rest of the team, and giving them the details that he knew, including the location of the body, they were on their way. Somewhat reluctantly, Lisbon joined Jane in his Citroen - he couldn't even use one of the standard issue SUVs during working hours - despite her inherent dislike for the thing. There was something about Jane’s demeanor since he had ended the phone call to the DA that had irked her and that was always bothering. She could tell that he didn't like something about this case; her curiosity meant that she had to work out precisely what. Of course, Jane was very often akin to a closed book, she knew that it would require some effort to ease it out of him. A journey in an enclosed space, with nowhere else to run, and just one another for company seemed like an opportunity too good for her to miss.  
  
"You're not religious; why does a body in a church bother you so much?"  
  
She only asked the question after they had indulged in a brief moment of inane chatter. Lisbon couldn’t just throw him in at the deep end; it wasn’t fair on him. Still, Jane shrugged noncommittally and kept his eyes firmly on the road. Their job took them to all manner of unusual locations and this one was no different. When she had heard that the body had been discovered in a Catholic Church during their brief meeting in the bullpen, she had expected Jane to be ambivalent about it. Anywhere could be a crime scene theoretically, and at the very least, it was something new. Still, churches weren't sacred spaces to him, not like her, and yet their reactions appeared to have been the reverse of what would have ordinarily been expected of them.  
  
"I don't like churches," Jane said stiffly, confirming what she had already surmised.  
  
"Why not?" she asked, curious.  
  
"My mom was religious - deeply so - she..." The breath caught in his throat and he seemed unable to continue speaking. He shook his head and then he focused on the road again. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over.  
  
But, he had already said more than enough for her to sink her teeth into it. Lisbon remembered. Before joining the CBI she had researched Patrick Jane as thoroughly as she could. She had read an article about the car crash which had taken his mother's life too soon. The woman had been running errands – picking up medication for a young Patrick Jane, specifically - and had apparently dropped by her church after she had finished. That was probably so she could offer up some prayers for her sick son. She had been on her way home from the church when she had died. That would have been enough to put him off going into one – he most likely associated her death both with himself and the church - and therefore, it was enough to quash any development of fledgling faith. As a Catholic herself, Lisbon found the concept of a young Patrick Jane's faith dying along with his mother deeply saddening. She used her religion to keep a grip on hope; it was something she had definitely inherited from her mother. For a short while, she had questioned religion and her beliefs and at that time, she had nearly lost everything, including her own identity. It was only upon rediscovering her faith that she had begun to mend the damage done by Red John.  
  
And in part, that was another reason why she couldn't bring herself to kill Red John with her own bare hands. An eye for an eye, and soon, the whole world would be blind. Of course, if she assisted upon getting an airtight case and arresting Red John, it was highly unlikely that he would escape the death penalty, unless he claimed insanity. But, in her opinion, that was different. It wasn't her decision; it was how justice was served in the state of California. It had taken some effort, but she now found herself at peace with the concept. If it made potential murders give pause to the concept of what they were doing, then that was lives saved. And if people who had committed heinous acts died, and that helped people to move on with their lives, then so be it.  
  
But for now, that was all irrelevant. There was another murderer for them to focus their attentions on. As much as she wanted to focus on Red John - especially with them being so close, and yet, far away from a lead - she couldn't. At least, not until there was either a development in the condition of their person of interest or until this new case had been closed. She shook her head to clear her thoughts; she was paid to do a job, ergo she was going to do it to the very best of her abilities.  
  
The church was located in a sleepy suburb, but that hadn't stopped a gaggle of people from gathering on one side of the yellow tape that had been erected around the church. From the moment that Lisbon stepped out of Jane's death trap of a car, she could already hear the hushed whispering of the gossips. This was probably one of the most exciting things to have happened in this place for years. Still, both she and Jane ignored the furtive glances and the attempts to start conversation. Instead, they hopped over the tape and headed towards the church. Jane lingered for a second before he started to speak.  
  
"You go on ahead. I'll talk to the first responders and wait for the others to arrive."  
  
Lisbon nodded. She knew that this was Jane's way of delaying going into the building, but she didn't expand on it. It wasn't her place to push him into doing something he didn't want to do. Besides he was her boss and as eccentric as he was, she still felt compelled to respect him for it. So, she left him to talk to the young and inexperienced officers who had been first on the scene of the crime and headed inside by herself. She knew that Jane could trust her to do the right thing in a crime scene, without the need for a babysitter. Lisbon understood and respected the importance of evidence. Sometimes, she even paid closer attention to it than the cops she worked with.  
  
The church was deathly silent but Lisbon didn't feel uncomfortable. Usually, she felt at home in churches, and especially so at this kind as it was Catholic. However, the silence was eerie this time around and she knew exactly why. After the first responders, who were milling around outside and talking to Jane, she was the first person to arrive at this crime scene. Automatically, she dipped two fingers into the holy water and made the sign of the cross. Then, she offered a silent prayer for the deceased. Some claimed that her religion was at odds with her abilities and what her father had taught her, but Lisbon had found peace in both of them a long time ago. It was only after she had finished with her prayers and respects that she headed towards the dead body. She needed to make sense of it all before there was too much interruption and noise from the others.  
  
His eyes were closed and were it not for the fact he had been foaming at the mouth, he could have been sleeping. This man had been poisoned to death, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if the same toxin had been used in each instance. Excepting the cross that hung around his neck, much like Lisbon’s own, he was also naked. Though he had probably died within this building, Lisbon didn’t think his current location or positioning was precisely where he had been killed. After all, how many people died with their arms and legs spread out, so that the body almost formed the shape of a star? Intrigued, she took a few more steps forwards and it was then that she noticed the rough patterns sketched along the floor. This was clearly the mark of a pre-planned murder, and one of somebody who most certainly knew what they were doing. The body was displayed in a decent facsimile of Leonardo Da Vinci's Virtruvian Man. Briefly, she smirked. A religious building and science intermingled together in the presentation of a dead body? If that wasn’t a message, she didn’t know what was.  
  
Eventually, and as expected, the deathly silence was soon interrupted. In some respects, Lisbon was relieved. The quiet and solitude were slowly but surely beginning to get to her. As interesting as the body was, after she had taken her first looks at it, it was always far more useful to bounce ideas off of somebody to start to formulate ideas properly. Lisbon wheeled around on her heels to see Jane walking towards her with Grace Van Pelt not far behind. Briefly, Van Pelt lingered by the holy water, undecided as to whether or not to actually dip her fingers into it as Lisbon had done so some twenty minutes ago. Eventually, she appeared to decide to forgo the action and instead, looked skywards, with her eyes closed for a moment of quiet prayer. Lisbon knew that the younger woman was religious, but she wasn’t the type to wear it on her sleeve; it was a more personal issue for her. Lisbon couldn't judge her for the decision to keep her religion fiercely private. Like Van Pelt, she didn't talk much about her beliefs to other people, but she did wear her mom's cross and paid her respects whenever she was in a religious building. But Van Pelt's behavior provided minor amusement; however, it was already time to cast those thoughts aside. They were here to do a job, not for her to psychoanalyze her work colleagues. That was something she could do (and did do) in her own free time.  
"What do you think?" she asked after Jane had taken a moment to regard the crime scene.  
  
"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Jane quipped with a smirk.  
  
"Ha, very droll," she responded and smirked. "Well then?"  
  
"It's definitely a message. Science and religion. The victim's name is Stefan Benton, 29, born and raised here in Sacramento,” Jane said, filling in the gaps in her knowledge about the victim. “He recently started working as a pastor here, but previously studied for a degree with a major in human biology. Then, he ‘saw the light’ and ended up here."  
  
Jane gestured to the naked body lying prone in front of them and the dry tone in his voice was unmistakable. Despite being fully aware of his subordinates' beliefs, he still seemed to find it virtually impossible to show any respect towards religion of any sort and his disdain wasn’t purely reserved for Christianity either. Lisbon had quickly learned to ignore his jibes but that didn't necessarily mean that Van Pelt would be able to learn to react in the same way. As a cop she was still very green behind the ears and as a person, Lisbon had immediately had the impression that she was quite the sensitive soul. Eventually, though, she would be fine. It would just take some time for her to develop that thick hide that the rest of them had. In a way, Lisbon was lucky. Her background had made her tenacious and tough; the very worst had already happened to her. Now, she was far more cynical than even she would have liked, but it did help, especially when she considered just how doubtful people were of her and her skills. Her concern for Van Pelt was confirmed when she glanced in her direction and saw the hurt expression on her face. Maybe later she would have a word with her. Despite his achievements in his career, Patrick Jane would never be famed for his tact.  
  
"Where is your God now?" Lisbon murmured and she took a deep breath. Jane stared at her quizzically as he waited for her to extrapolate on the statement. After all, considering her beliefs, they were words that he would never have expected to hear from her mouth, she knew that. In the end, she gave up and filled in the blank spaces for him. "That's the message. Religion couldn't save him, even in a place of worship. Science is perceived to be grounded on solid fact."  
  
"But everything is theoretical until proven otherwise?"  
  
"Yes, but that isn't the killer's point. They want to prove that science is superior to religion, hence the portrayal of the body."  
  
"But Da Vinci was a pious man," Jane added.  
  
"Yes, but he valued reason above his faith,” Lisbon corrected him automatically. “That's what makes this ironic. Or, it's just a cover up; trying to frame science when religion is the core issue here."  
  
"And which do you think it is?"  
  
"That is what we need to find out," she answered back firmly.  
  
She began to walk out of the church; she had seen everything she needed to see and they needed to leave so that forensics could do their thing. Lisbon was acutely aware of getting in the way; sometimes she still felt like a fraud whenever she was at a crime scene. That was most likely because of how she had felt every day prior to her family’s death, as a psychic. However, before she could leave, she was stopped by Van Pelt who was edging nervously out of Benton's office. She looked remarkably unsure about what she was meant to do, however, that was because she was still trying to find her feet in the job. Less than two weeks since she had started her position, and she had already had to assist in a copycat Red John case and then, the real thing. It was little wonder that her head was still in a spin.  
  
"Lisbon? I need your opinion on something."  
  
Lisbon raised an eyebrow in surprise but nodded anyway. Theoretically, Van Pelt should have headed straight to her boss if she had found something, but instead she had chosen to approach her. Lisbon surmised that that probably had something to do with the fear of wasting Jane's precious time. Though they all worked incredibly hard, her job mostly involved looking at things and giving her opinion on it. Therefore, it was well within her remit to assist Van Pelt on this issue. In all likelihood, had she approached Jane first, he would have merely come straight to her anyway. Remaining mute, Lisbon followed her straight into the office. Clearly, they weren’t done at the church yet.  
  
Barring the fact that the chair had been knocked to one side and a pot of stationary had been scattered over the floor, the room had been kept immaculately. Van Pelt immediately led Lisbon to the desk where a pile of accounting papers laid neatly in the middle. Lisbon wandered around the desk, careful not to disturb anything and then started flicking through them while Van Pelt lingered awkwardly to one side. It was clear that the church had major financial issues; there were huge holes all over the place. In some respects, it was understandable. Modern life made people believe church was less of a necessity. Therefore, there was less income into the church. However, even from a brief glance, Lisbon could tell there was money disappearing where it clearly shouldn’t have been. Somebody had been fiddling with the books. The question was who? Regardless of whether or not it was their victim, it provided them with a viable motive for his death. Either he was responsible and somebody had taken their petty revenge, or he had discovered who was doing it and they had used murder as a cover-up. It seemed entirely foolish in Lisbon’s eyes; theft drew far less attention than murder.  
  
Then, her eyes were drawn to the pale white mug that had been placed to one side of the table. The slogan ‘I believe!’ was cheerfully displayed on one side, along with the name of the church and a picture of it. It was half filled with black tea, with a splash of milk in it. And, she immediately suspected, a splash of poison of some variety. This was their murder weapon, she was certain of it. Without another word, Lisbon swept out of the room and headed straight towards Patrick Jane. They needed to start interviewing family and friends of the victim. His work colleagues needed questioning too, as she already had a feeling that the killer would be amongst them. The mug needed sending off for fingerprinting and contents examination as soon as possible too. To finalize details in a court case, that kind of evidence was usually far more important than anything that she could ever do.  
  
Jane was on the phone when she approached and he was clearly unhappy. Instinctively, Lisbon knew it was nothing to do with the murder location. Since he had gotten engrossed in examining the dead body itself, he had acclimatized to the place. This call was clearly not good news. Lisbon hung back while he bade the caller farewell and it was only then that she decided to approach him. However, she didn’t actually need to hear the words he was preparing to tell her. She could read it in his every expression.  
  
“I’m sorry, Teresa. He passed away an hour ago.”  
  
He didn’t even need to tell her the name, either. Naturally, she had empathy for the fact a man had passed away, but more selfish reasoning quickly surfaced too. She had so much hope for this lead and yet, Red John had most likely just slipped through their fingers again.


	8. Chapter 8

Jane watched as his consultant clenched her fist several times in frustration. It was almost as if she wanted to punch something (or someone) in her frustration. He was glad that he already knew her well enough to know she was capable of controlling her temper and venting out her frustrations in an appropriate manner. At least, usually that was the case. There had been moments that he had seen her tip over the edge, so he could only hope that she would remain in control in this moment. She tried to keep her breathing as even as possible, but even he could tell that this was a blow that she absolutely did not need. After all, Jane was a detective too; he knew how to read people, he had to as a part of his job. Otherwise, how was he supposed to break criminals during interrogations? Of course it was an established fact that Lisbon was better at reading people than he was, but that was only because she had different skills and training in her arsenal. He couldn't be offended by that; had their roles been reversed, he would have the skills that she did, but he would also have probably reacted very differently to what had happened to her. Sometimes, he believed it was close to a miracle that she was so willing to fight for justice instead of petty revenge. Teresa Lisbon, generally, had learned from the hardships of her past. They colored the person she was today, that was obvious, but she didn't use her experiences in a destructive manner.  
  
Some people would claim that he did the exact opposite. To this very day, he still had issues coming to terms with what his father had done to his family after his mother's death. Alex Jane had immediately turned to drink and all four of his young sons; he had forgotten what it was like to be a family man. His whole world had collapsed after his wife had died; Jane knew he couldn't blame him for that. However, the destructive manner that he had turned to had damn near killed the whole Jane family, and left one of his younger brothers severely ill. It was an accident, he remembered his father claiming. I didn't push him down the staircase, he tripped. 'Tripped' and he had almost ended up paralysed from the waist down. Through years of persistence, Daniel had miraculously made a full recovery, but it was not quick enough. Soon after, Daddy Jane committed suicide and left them to fend for themselves. For a long while, Jane denied having any resemblance to his father, but sometimes when he looked in the mirror it was all too clear. Virgil Minelli had been one of the few men brave enough to point out Patrick Jane's destructive streak to him and some days, it became more and more obvious that he really was his father's son.  
  
He shook his head violently and reached out to touch Lisbon gently on the arm with two fingers. She pulled away from the gesture; a clear sign that she wanted to bear this burden on her own. Lisbon really was a martyr to her cause; since her family had died, and since she joined the CBI, she had thrown herself into her position as a consultant. She practically lived for the job. Jane noted that it was incredibly unhealthy, but who was he to judge? He wasn't all that much better when it came to balancing his career and his social life. In fact, some people would claim that it was apparent he was trying to screw up the both of them, one way or another. Even when it came to a very specific case - Red John - Jane wanted the bastard dead almost as much as Lisbon did. The sole difference was that Lisbon had a personal reason for it, whereas it was in Jane's line of duty that he aimed for such a target.  
  
"There's nothing we can do," he murmured gently and she shook her head. "But there is for this man."  
  
"He's still dead. We can't bring them back from that, even if we do arrest the killer."  
  
"We can bring about closure. Get justice for the family involved. You know that better than most."  
  
"But Red John..." she said, trailing off.  
  
"Next time," Jane answered back firmly.  
  
"Next time," she scoffed, echoing him sarcastically. "That's almost as bad as saying tomorrow. Because you know what, Jane? Tomorrow never comes."  
  
She stormed out of the church, but Jane didn't dare follow her. He needed to give her space to cool off and recollect her thoughts. Once she had come to terms with the blow that had just been delivered to them, she would be back to her focused and determined self. She would stop parroting the claims he made about how little benefit their job brought, comparatively speaking, and remember just how important closing cases was for the relatives and friends of the deceased. It served them justice, it meant they could move on without questioning who, or what was responsible for their loved one's death. That was something he and his father never got with regards to his mother. The drunk driver who had killed his mom - and nearly destroyed the entire Jane family as a consequence - had managed to flee the scene of the crime before the police got anywhere near them. It was a classic hit-and-run job. And ultimately, that was what sent his father over the edge; the questions, the simply not knowing. It was what had inspired Patrick Jane himself to become a cop and he knew it was the reason why Teresa Lisbon had offered her services to the CBI shortly after her family had been slaughtered by Red John.  
  
But for now, Jane knew he couldn't worry about that. Instead, he rounded up Van Pelt, who had just finished up taking photographs of the office and they headed outside. Lisbon was waiting by his beautiful blue Citroen, just as he expected her to be. Her arms were crossed and she was staring pointedly at the ground; a classic defensive position. But then, she probably needed to feel like she could be protected from the world. Underneath all of her false bravado was an incredibly vulnerable woman, haunted by her demons and only a few steps away from losing everything altogether. And that was a dark and lonely route to go down; Jane knew that from experience. It was why he could see it whenever he looked into Lisbon's honest eyes. There must have been a time when she was capable of masking that honesty; otherwise, how would she have been able to fool people into believing that she was a psychic? But that wasn't his issue; in reality, he was genuinely glad that he had the opportunity to get to know her. Who wouldn't have been? He just wished that it hadn't occurred under such tragic circumstances. However, it was what it was and they merely had to make do.  
  
"I'm sorry," she murmured as he approached. "I overreacted. It was wrong of me."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Teresa."  
  
"Jane..."  
  
She eyed him seriously and Jane always knew that it was a warning sign to stop it. Once again, he found himself incredibly intrigued by what she was like when she was a practicing psychic. The only thing he’d ever had the opportunity to see of her in ‘the act’ was the interview she had given on the fateful day that her family had died. It had been blindingly obvious just how uncomfortable she had been during that interview, even to him. But even so, considering her previous career path, she had an awful lot of tells and could be read openly. But then, that had probably proved to be beneficial in some sort of way. After all, the honesty in her eyes made her appear exceedingly more trustworthy than somebody who was presented like a closed book. From personal experience, he knew that some relatives of victims sometimes found it awfully difficult to trust whether or not he would actually be able to close the case that was most important to them. He couldn't help being the way he was; he had learned that weaknesses were something that could be taken advantage of. As a consequence, he had always kept his cards close to his chest. Jane liked to think it actually made him a better cop. After all, it meant that perpetrators could never know what he was thinking until he was pouncing on them and making the arrest. However, as beneficial as it was in that respect, it still proved a stumbling point when connecting with the other victims - the family - of the deceased.  
  
But, as far as he was concerned, that was what made them an impressive team. Of course, Lisbon held herself away from him, mostly to protect herself, but Jane knew they complimented one another well. She was exceptionally good with people and had an eye for the detail that he sometimes missed. His mind was constantly focusing on the cases in hand and Lisbon always helped him to fill in the gaps. Meanwhile, he also had an uncanny ability to use her expertise to its very best and trick the criminals into hanging themselves, as it were. Sometimes, things went wrong, but in general, their closed case record had only skyrocketed and Virgil Minelli was pleased with that. However, he also knew that he was less than pleased with some of the other effects it had had on Jane's performance.  
  
Since Lisbon had joined his team, Jane had taken it upon himself to impress her. He saw her as a worthy challenger; somebody whose skills he could actually compete with. Therefore, it made him take more risks, use more cunning and the like in order to close cases. When he managed to work out something almost as soon as Lisbon did, he was pleased. If, for some reason, he managed to figure out their murderer before she had, then it was only natural that he had to rush to make the arrest too. Jane knew that the courts had a field day trying to pick apart the messes he made, but Minelli always found cause to defend him. Sometimes, Jane wondered if, before dealing with a telephone call from an irate D.A., Minelli had to repeat the mantra 'he closes cases' several times before wading in. After all, they were words that Jane had heard his boss say more than several times in the past.  
Jane knew that he was an unusual cop, but Lisbon was an even more unusual consultant. Sometimes, she seemed to have more of a 'cop-like' persona than actual cops did. It was probably some sort of coping mechanism, her way of trying to fit in. But she was always the one to take the most care not to disturb the forensic evidence, or to make sure she was wearing gloves before handling something in a crime scene. On regular occasions, he found her deep in conversation with a medical examiner, talking details about death. This was probably her way of learning on the job; he couldn't blame her for that. When he'd first started on the job, working under Samuel Bosco, he had absorbed as much as he could, like a sponge. But then, his behavior meant that Jane found himself butting heads with his superior on regular occasions and that caused friction. In the end, Bosco himself had recommended that Jane applied to join the California Bureau of Investigation, because they had a more 'open minded' view to fighting crime than the San Francisco Police Department ever would have. Bosco's call had been sound, and since then, Jane had been grateful to the man for being able to forward his career in such way.  
  
But for now, he had a case to deal with and a clearly disappointed consultant to cheer up. The case, he knew, would provide them both with an ample distraction. That wasn't to say he didn't stand by his words of 'next time'; he did. However, they couldn't do anything until they had new evidence. Unfortunately, that also included waiting until Red John struck again.  
  
"Okay, but we're going to talk about this later," Jane said in a serious tone, very unlike his usual demeanor. Reluctantly she nodded and he felt a wave of relief wash over him. It was enough for him to accept that as her acquiescing to his request. Besides, he wasn't just concerned for her as her boss, but as a friend too. Despite the friendly competition, and the fact that they often argued like cat and dog over the silliest of things, he genuinely did care deeply about her. "Did you find anything in the office?"  
  
"Yes. The accountancy books have been fiddled with. Either by the victim, or one of his colleagues, and the victim realized it and was killed for his discovery. It’s more likely to be the latter. The work colleagues need to be the priority with interviewing."  
  
Quickly, Jane turned to face Van Pelt. Cho and Rigsby had just joined them, after finishing canvassing the area for any unusual sightings. Swiftly, and as Lisbon suggested, he asked that they go and interview Benton's work colleagues. They agreed immediately, with Van Pelt and Cho drifting back in the direction of the church to talk to the few who were still there and Rigsby heading back to the headquarters to continue their research. Without another word, Jane indicated silently to his car and both he and Lisbon climbed in. He didn't need to tell her where they were going; it was routine that now, they took the time to go and interview the family. He hated telling the relatives of the deceased that they had lost a loved one, and he hated seeing the ghost of remembrance in Lisbon's eyes with regards to how she discovered her family too. But it was something that they had to honor and besides, it always provided them with ample information to work with and usually, several leads to follow up too.  
  
The journey was deathly silent and Jane didn't like that. Occasionally, he fiddled with his radio in order to fill it, but really, he still had to concentrate on the road ahead. And even he eventually grew irritated by the irregular stream of dull music. Besides, his car was too precious to him to risk writing it off over something that was little more than boredom. Occasionally, though, he stole furtive glances at Lisbon, just to check how she was holding up. His concern for her was running increasingly deeper; while it sometimes took a little effort to get her talking, she was never usually this quiet. That, naturally, left his alarm bells ringing and as a consequence, it annoyed him greatly. There was nothing he liked less than not knowing, especially when it came to Teresa Lisbon. Everything about her was too fascinating for him not to be lured into her. At this moment, she was staring aimlessly out of the passenger side window, not really focusing on anything at all.  
  
It didn't take a psychic - fake, or otherwise - to realize that her mind was being taken up entirely by thoughts of Red John and her family.  
  
Jane frowned; she had to know that she wasn't the only one who was passionate about the case, didn't she? That talking about it with anyone – with him, specifically – would help them close the damn thing faster? After all, a problem shared was a problem halved. Most people viewed his desire to close the case as being the simple fact that it would be his career-maker. However, that couldn't have been too much further from the truth. In reality, Jane was pleased with how far he had gotten in his career, pleasantly surprised even. It was a wonder that he had managed to make it this far at all. He was distinctly aware that any more power would be too corrupting for him and he didn’t go searching for it as a consequence. Besides, his style of investigative work wasn't suited to a more senior position; too much paperwork, not enough crime fighting was involved with that. He called his methodology unorthodox. Almost everyone else he knew chose to label it as utterly crazy. It didn’t change the fact that he was a good cop. Merely, he was just a little unusual compared to everyone else in the CBI. But why would he even want to be normal when he could be different, anyway?  
  
The interview with the relatives was as productive as could be expected. The family was naturally tearful, and the mother especially so. It was understandable, given the fact they had just lost their only child, something which he imagined that Lisbon could relate to wholeheartedly. She took control, much like she always did in these circumstances and Jane was grateful for it. Especially so as she seemed to have been capable of putting the Red John issues completely to one side and had gotten on with the task in hand. Then again, with Lisbon, he knew that he couldn't expect anything less. She was utterly professional and took her job very seriously. That was the main reason why she had been such an exemplary consultant for the CBI - and why Virgil Minelli had been especially keen to keep hold of her. Most consultants that assisted the CBI tended to be more like the loose cannons that didn't have a clue what the hell they were really doing or caused far more trouble than they were worth. They were usually more like him, really. Jane didn't find this especially offensive; he knew it was just a statement of truth. And so long as he kept closing cases, and kept charming the public, he knew that he had a job with the CBI. Minelli continued to assure him that, ultimately, he was worth all the paperwork that came with him. He closed cases. And that applied even more so since he had been paired up with Teresa Lisbon.  
  
Unfortunately, apart from breaking the dreadful news that their son had been killed - and in a church, no less - talking to the family brought up little else. Like most of these situations, the parents were wearing rose-tinted glasses and refused to see fault in their child. Being devout Christians, who had been relieved that their son had found religion once again, they also refused to speak ill of the dead. This always made their job that little more difficult. However, he also knew precisely how to read between the lines, and Lisbon did even more so. After they were finished here, she would tell him exactly what she had thought of Mr. and Mrs. Benton and not a moment sooner. She refused to be rude to these people, even if they were concealing something that could have been useful. As far as she was concerned, it was disrespectful and impolite, and not to mention the simple fact they had just received the worst possible news. They didn’t deserve to be burdened with anything else. Jane, meanwhile, knew that he didn't have the same censor and if he saw something disconcerting in what they were saying (or what they were _not_ saying), then he was always the first to point it out.  
  
Eventually they found themselves bidding farewell to the family and were back in his car. Jane still felt the need to talk to Lisbon about Red John; it was an important subject and he wasn't sure if she had really come to terms with the blow of losing their lead. This current case, of course, was important too, but her mental state was even more so. How could she operate and carry out her job to the very best of her ability if her mind was too busy lingering elsewhere? Lisbon was very good at putting a brave face on and you really had to know her in order to tell there was an underlying issue going on underneath. The Benton family would have been too wrapped up in their own grief to realize this. He, meanwhile, could tell it just by looking at the slightly saddened expression which she hadn't been able to cover up in the slightest. He may not have been relentlessly taught how to read people’s tells, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do it if he knew them well enough.  
  
"You okay?" he asked when she sat back down in the car.  
  
"Really, Jane?" she asked, surprised that he was even returning to that subject again. "You know I'm okay. I told you earlier that I was fine."  
  
"Except you're not," he replied lightly.  
  
"Would you be?"  
  
He shook his head. "I'm not either."  
  
It wasn't a lie. He took every murder by Red John very personally. The fact that they would most likely have to wait until he killed again was almost like a personal insult to him and his capabilities. There was nothing they could do at this moment in time and that was especially frustrating. Worse, on a daily basis he could see the damage that Red John had done to Teresa Lisbon. Jane was certain that she had never deserved to have her family slaughtered just because she had appeared on a TV show. She certainly didn't deserve it as it was obvious she'd been reluctant to answer questions about Red John at the time; the stupid interviewers had pushed her into it. Jane had watched the tape of that interview more times than he cared to admit; he found it galling that Red John had taken a personal insult to something when she hadn't been the one at fault. Nobody deserved that. Not one individual deserved to have their life stolen away from them because somebody chose it to be so.  
  
But then, he knew that he would think that. He was clearly biased; he was to anybody he cared about. His team had always been very near the top of that list, along with his three younger brothers. If anything ever happened to them, he knew that it would easily push him over the edge. He'd already lost too many people in his life as it was. Then, life seemed like a constant routine of meeting people, getting to know them and then losing them. Nothing was stable, and nothing ever would be. Clinging onto his job and giving other people the hope that the right thing would be done provided him with his only sense of stability. Sometimes, Jane found himself wondering if he actually had the mental capabilities to do his job. Sure, he’d passed all the appropriate tests, but test results could easily be faked.  
  
"Jane..." she said quietly, with a hint of pleading in her tone.  
  
"Fine," he said; she didn't need to say anymore for him to realize she was still reluctant to have 'that talk' about Red John. "What did you think about Benton's family? Is there anything we need to investigate there?"  
  
"No," she confirmed immediately, just like Jane had suspected. She also sounded immeasurably relieved that he had promptly changed the subject at her (almost) unspoken behest. "They are a family who are genuinely grieving for their loved ones. The only thing they believe they have to feel guilty about is the fact they helped him get that job in the church. They encouraged him to drop the Human Biology he'd been specializing in and retrain as a man of the church."  
  
"You worked that out from what they were saying?"  
  
"No photograph of his graduation, but several of him in uniform at the church. It's just common sense really."  
  
She shrugged her shoulders and Jane sighed. Not that he wanted the family to be guilty, but it would have been nice if they could have gotten a solid, easy lead out of it. Still, it was never that easy. If it was, there would have been no need for highly specialized individuals such as himself fighting crime. There would have been no need for messy court proceedings after, either. Even so, all he could do was hope that the rest of his team was having more luck with the work colleagues of Stefan Benton. Although he had appreciated having Lisbon around during the family interview - he always did because he could freely admit that she had far superior people skills than he did - he couldn't help but think her talents were wasted there. Sure, she could tell him that the mother partially blamed herself for her son's death, but that wasn't all that impressive. Almost any mother in her situation would have felt that way, even if it was just a series of random events that had resulted in her child's death. Really, she should have been with the rest of the team; the people she would have met in the church would most likely have proven far more difficult reads. There was something that Jane simply hadn't been able to trust about religious figures ever since his old priest had visited him in hospital after that dreadful car crash to inform him that his mom had 'gone onto a better place.'  
  
He couldn't believe the man now. He couldn't believe what any one of them would say about any given subject or situation. Like anything else, the church was a business: out to make money. They were worse than what Lisbon did in his opinion. At least she had offered people hope during her old day job, and it came direct from her. And he could also tell that it had never been something that her heart was truly in. She'd hated the deceit and lies and only had carried out the job at her father's behest. Priests and parsons and other individuals deeply embroiled within the church were only interested in lining their own pockets. Their lies also came on a far greater magnitude; Lisbon had merely told people what they had already known for themselves. He doubted that she had truly been able to see it that way, especially after her husband and daughter were murdered. Since then, she had probably only seen the catastrophic damage that 'lying' for a career could cause.  
  
His cellphone started ringing and automatically, he tossed it to Lisbon to answer. He didn't like speaking on the phone when driving; he thought it was an unnecessary risk. It was always far better if drivers kept both eyes on the road; carelessness cost lives. But that was a lesson that very few people bothered to heed; mostly because, unlike him, they hadn't learned the hard way. They hadn't lost somebody they loved so dearly - or come incredibly close to losing their own life - in a preventable car crash. The idiot that killed his mom should never have been on the road if he'd been drinking, as the officers had presumed in lieu of actually catching the bastard. People shouldn't use cellphones while driving when it caused a distraction from the more important task in hand.  
  
"Rigsby thinks he's got something. He wants us to get back to the office and check his paper trails," Lisbon said when she bid the caller farewell.  
  
“Good,” Jane confirmed. “Because that’s where I wanted to head anyway.”  
  
The fact that Lisbon refused to respond said more than anything she could have said. She knew exactly what he meant by that, and sometimes, that was half the problem with having a conversation with her. Lisbon could second-guess him all the time, and was always attempting to avoid certain subjects. Of course, her eyes gave her away on occasion, but that was never enough to tell him what she was really thinking. He needed to know what was going on in his subordinates’ minds in order to know how to lead them effectively. And of course, he just liked to know because it made his team more close-knit and more like a family. Being so distant from his blood relatives made him all the more appreciative of having people he could truly trust nearby.  
Soon enough, they were back in the headquarters and heading up to the third floor. As promised, Rigsby thrust some files into their hands from the very moment that they reached the bullpen. Briefly, he explained to them both what he had discovered and Jane thanked him for his hard work. With that, Rigsby disappeared straight back to his computer to keep digging. He didn’t need to be told twice what to do, without Kimball Cho or especially Grace Van Pelt to distract him. Jane turned to face Lisbon after he left, instructed her to head straight to his office and wait there. As expected, the reluctance in her eyes had returned, but he knew she wouldn’t disobey a direct order. Lisbon wouldn’t disobey _any_ order from him, which was more than could be said for Cho, for example. She’d question it, sometimes ask not to do it, but ultimately, she would listen every single time.  
  
He hummed gently to himself as he prepared two hot drinks in the kitchenette – a coffee for Lisbon, and a tea for himself, naturally. He stared pensively at the cabinets in front of him as he dipped the teabag in his mug several times, in order to speed up the stewing process. All he could do was hope that he could get Lisbon to open up this time around – ‘third time’s the charm’ was something his aunt had always said to him while he’d been growing up, and he tended to believe that. Eventually, he picked up the mug and his favorite blue teacup and headed through to his office. Lisbon was sitting in front of his desk with her legs neatly crossed and hands resting on her lap. She smiled weakly as he handed her the cup of coffee and he settled himself down on his leather couch.  
  
“Join me,” he said and she shook her head. “C’mon Teresa, you know I don’t bite.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”  
  
“So…”  
  
“So, now you want ‘that talk’, don’t you?”  
  
“Yes, I do,” he confirmed.


	9. Chapter 9

She told him everything that she thought appropriate, given the situation. Lisbon was always careful not to reveal too much. She needed to protect herself in some ways. There were things that she hadn't even told Virgil Minelli, or the CBI's resident psychiatrist, during her interviews prior to her employment, or even after it, for that matter. That was because she had skeletons in her closet, things that she didn't want anybody to know about. As far as she was concerned, that was applicable to almost anybody, so why should she have been ashamed of having a few secrets? Besides, she had badly wanted the job with the CBI, she had needed it almost. It made her feel like she was doing something genuinely useful and it kept her busy. Her volunteering with the police prior to her family’s death had been the only use of her skills that had made her feel like she was truly achieving something beneficial with it. The fact that now, she was helping herself - and others - seek closure over the Red John debacle only served to make her feel that little bit better about it. It also helped that she had quickly found a natural aptitude towards fighting crime and felt respected amongst her colleagues. For the first time in her life, Lisbon felt like she was doing the right thing and was in a career path that actually suited her, instead of finding herself being forced into it whether or not she actually wanted it for herself. That was why she had to be careful what she told people within the CBI. It was because of what it actually meant to her as a person.  
  
But she also knew that Jane was looking for honesty and she believed she owed him that at the very least. He clearly hadn't believed her when she had apologized for her outburst after their discovery that their only link to Red John had died. Of course, he believed she was genuinely sorry for the outburst itself - and she was - but he clearly didn't believe that she actually was okay about the situation as a whole. And he was right to believe that. She still felt shaken up, like they had lost something intangible. They had been so close to having a real, solid lead and yet, it had slipped through their fingers less than twenty-four hours later. How could she not have felt like they lost something? And then, there was the fact he had died, had essentially been _killed_ , on CBI premises. The case that had just landed on their desk had provided them with a distraction from finding the perpetrator of that specific death and that annoyed her immensely. Of course, Benton's family deserved to have justice served, but their other victim, the one who had been killed somewhere where he should, theoretically, have been safe, did too. It didn't matter what he'd done right or wrong in his life. Murder was murder; there was no other question about it. The killer always had to be found, regardless of how murky the victim’s past had actually been.  
  
Jane looked on understandingly as she spoke, rarely talking and occasionally sipping at his hot tea. Once or twice, he reached out to touch her hand or her thigh, but she pulled away every single time. His tactile nature often made her feel uncomfortable; fleeting memories of the past and unwanted attention always resurfaced whenever somebody did that to her. Generally, she had to be the one to initiate contact in order to feel comfortable with it. Besides, Lisbon was not naturally a tactile person anyway, she never had been. She could talk and read people, hypnotize them if necessary, she could read people’s pulses, get information out of their possessions (or conversely, what _wasn’t_ there), and she had several other useful tricks and skills up her sleeve, but that didn't necessarily mean that she had to actually like any of them. Jane's need for touch disconcerted her, but that was also because he, too, was a product of history. He'd lost the two people who meant the most to him by the age of sixteen, through no fault of his own. It was only natural that he craved human touch in order to remind himself that it was all real.  
  
Still, she felt uncomfortable talking to him about this, though. Part of her wondered if he doubted how genuine she was about her intentions with Red John. He could easily have been forgiven if he thought she was lying through her teeth about that. Many, many relatives of murdered victims swore blind that they would kill the person responsible. They seemed to hear that with some regularity during the job, anyway, and it was always a task attempting to talk the ones who she thought were more serious about the threats out of it. An eye for an eye never got anybody anywhere.  Lisbon knew that she was just blessed with the luck to be able to think about the situation more logically. Justice for all always appealed to her more than thinking about her situation selfishly; she wasn’t the only one bearing the weight of the world on her shoulders due to Red John. There had been a time when she hadn’t thought like that, and she suffered the consequences. And that was something she specifically refused to talk about; she kept it locked away in her memory palace and refused to let anyone else have the key to it.  
  
 At least Jane accepted what she told him, and he didn’t press her for any more information. Lisbon skirted around issues she didn’t want to talk about: her carnie history, her father specifically and she didn’t even mention any of her prior health issues. Had she been in his position, she wasn’t sure she could have been quite so forgiving about clearly only being given half the information. That was especially so after he’d spent all morning trying to get her to talk more openly.  
  
“We’ll get Rigsby investigating his death once he’s done with Benton’s paper trails,” Jane assured her, but she wasn’t quite sure.  
  
“He might even be done already; you know he’s already given us something of interest, so there can’t be much more to do.”  
  
Lisbon nodded, accepting it and they changed the subject to the Benton case. Rigsby had been very thorough with his background checks and had given them plenty to work with. In silence, they sat on the battered leather couch together, flicking through file after file. It didn’t take long for Lisbon to see exactly why Rigsby had thought it would be of interest; the accounts of the church were a mess. Somebody using a pseudonym had been filtering money out of it on a regular basis, but it was poorly covered up. In fact, Rigsby had already narrowed it down to a couple of suspects and it was her job to pick out which one was more viable.  
A couple of seconds later, she came to her conclusion. It was more of a hunch, really. The first suspect that Rigsby had offered them seemed too obvious. A man riddled with debt issues, a drug problem and several priors already. However, he didn’t really have access to the church’s funds at all, never mind with any regularity. The other suspect, unexpected at face value, was a sweet older woman. Her history was clean, excepting one count for speeding. But she volunteered at church as a craftswoman. She kept the kids entertained during Sunday School and the elderly folk active with various activities. Therefore, she had to have access to money in order to fund her little ventures. Lisbon didn’t think she was the killer; if looks counted for anything, then she didn’t seem to have it in her. But taking more money than she was owed for resources? Who’s to say she hadn’t been more than a little bit tempted by that idea?  
  
“We need to question Mrs. Glover,” Lisbon said firmly and pointed to her file. “I think she might have something interesting to say.”  
“I agree,” Jane confirmed and he stood quickly. “But I don’t think she’s responsible.”  
  
“Someone she knows though,” Lisbon said with a shrug.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Whoever she’s giving the funds to. She lives comfortably; she had enough money to support herself, but not enough for too much additional expenditure. That means she must be doing it for somebody else.”  
  
“Health related, do you think? A sick relative or friend? Somebody with no insurance or their insurance company won’t pay out?”  
  
“Possibly,” Lisbon agreed, but she knew there were other reasons she could have been doing it. “It’d explain the importance of science versus religion at the crime scene.”  
  
“The killer must have had an interest in Leonardo Da Vinci at the very least.”  
  
“Lots of people know his artwork, it’s not necessarily _that_ important.”  
  
“But the detail in the crime scene…”  
  
Lisbon paused for a second and took the opportunity to finish her now-cold cup of coffee. He did have a point. While the scene had been a rough facsimile of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, it had been detailed enough to suggest that the murderer had spent a long time studying the drawing. But then, it was an incredibly famous piece; everybody knew the basics of it. They could merely have been fascinated by just the one drawing, and not really care about Da Vinci’s other artworks. It would go some way to explaining why they missed the point that there were heated debates about Da Vinci’s religious beliefs, and the fact that he was pious to some degree anyhow.  
  
“You’re right,” she conceded and Jane grinned brightly. “But it could have just been an interest in the Vitruvian Man alone. A lot of scientists hold it in high regard, ignoring his more religious pieces.”  
  
Jane scooped up his car keys as Lisbon finished up. “Shall we?”  
  
“I think so,” she agreed.  
  
Returning her focus to the case in hand and having discussed Red John in some detail made Lisbon feel as though a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. It was strange what the power of speech could do, but obviously not something that Lisbon was unfamiliar with. This was a trade she had peddled in for too long now. After all, there was such a thing as knowing too much about something. Still, she couldn't help but be more than a little bit pleased about putting it to one side now and feeling more like herself. Just because that avenue to Red John had been closed, it didn't mean that more wouldn't inevitably open. She just hoped it would come before more deaths occurred. That was unlikely, though. She just kept trying to tell herself otherwise.  
  
And then there was this current case. She did find it intriguing. This kind of presentation usually suggested that somebody was experienced with murder, keen to make a statement, be remembered and had the drive to kill again. However, there was also a sense of childish naïveté about it all. And that only served to make it all the more disconcerting. The killers who didn’t know what they were doing, who acted with reckless abandon were more dangerous in the immediate future. Other killers, Lisbon found she could work out their motive and/or their M.O., but this kind of murderer could be more unpredictable. She couldn’t say whether or not he would strike again, and if he (or she) did, when it would happen.  
  
This was especially the case if money was the motive and even more so if it was somebody’s health at risk. Logic often went out of the window when trying to save a loved one’s life. And often, once that issue had disappeared, underlying greed seeped through. People found that they simply couldn’t stop. They decided they had other needs which required funding; they claimed that it was for the ‘greater good’, when in reality, somebody else was suffering as a consequence. It was funny just how many people could justify murder in their minds, and thus showed no remorse. Alternatively, they simply claimed that it was ‘a moment of madness’ after they had been caught. Only a very small percentage of murderers she had assisted in apprehending showed true remorse for their actions.  
  
But then, in this case, Lisbon knew her imagination was running ahead of her. She needed to get some firm facts down before she truly had an idea what the motive for killing Stefan Benton was. Money and greed were ultimately a major cause in a staggering amount of murders. It was simply a case of working out what the individual in question’s motive behind doing what they did.  
  
Beyond that, this woman, this Mrs. Glover they were due to meet, wasn’t necessarily the woman who had been stealing from the church. She wasn’t the only person with easy access to the accounts. Benton himself was one of the people, but his records had come up clean and it seemed that he hadn’t been responsible, but had discovered that somebody had been fiddling with the books. Then there was the church’s actual account, Mrs. Glover and any number of people who may have chosen to take unauthorized access to it. However depressing those statistics were, Lisbon reminded herself that it was a positive lead and that she did have a good hunch about Mrs. Glover from the moment she read about her. And Lisbon had had to learn to trust her instincts from a very young age. Life in the carnival had literally given her no other choice in the matter.  
  
Before they arrived, however, Jane insisted on stopping off for a very late lunch. She didn’t argue, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was feeling particularly hungry either. If anything, she had completely forgotten about the need for food at all; everything else was too messed up for her to even consider it. Just because she was feeling better than she had been a couple of hours ago, it didn’t necessarily mean everything was set out straight again. In reality, it would take her a little longer to truly sort out her mindset and get back to the normal routine of work. So long as she made a good impression of being whole and complete in front of her co-workers, Lisbon really didn’t care.  
  
“You should really be eating that instead of picking at it,” Jane remarked lightly.  
  
She glanced down at the hamburger that Jane had kindly bought her. He’d insisted that it was his treat, despite her protestations. Lisbon hated owing anyone anything. “I know.”  
  
“Not hungry?” he asked.  
  
“Not especially.”  
  
“Just try a little more. It’ll do you good.”  
  
Lisbon snorted derisively at his statement. “What do you think I am? Three?”  
  
“No,” he conceded before taking a sip of his lemonade. “But I do think you have a tendency to neglect yourself whenever you’re unhappy.”  
  
He was right, but Lisbon wasn’t about to admit to him that he was. Whenever she told him he was on the right path, or indeed, correct, it seemed to have the habit of increasing his ego, too. Sometimes, Patrick Jane could be completely insufferable and it was a wonder that any of his colleagues actually wanted to work with him. The rest of the time, she realized it was actually more of an irritating flaw that could be ignored when she put her mind to it and in reality Jane was generally a nice guy to be around. When Jane cared about somebody, he was loyal to a fault and his (usually) easy-going nature meant his team stuck by him. Sometimes, like Minelli, they trotted out the cliché of ‘he closes cases’ to justify working with him, but really it was because he liked them and the feeling was entirely mutual.  
  
Lisbon picked up a couple of fries and popped them in her mouth, just to prove a point. Jane smiled wryly and she knew that they were both seeing through each other’s facades. It was often the way with them. Despite having only worked together for just over one year, they both knew each other incredibly well. That was almost solely down to the fact that they worked in incredibly close quarters with one another, to the extent that she sometimes swore they lived in one another’s pockets. And of course, it helped that she was naturally gifted with the ability to read people and he had honed very similar skills as a detective. She always made sure she reminded herself that she wasn’t the only person in the CBI who could ascertain what people were thinking through their tells and body language. It was just a simple fact that she was _marginally_ better at it than the rest of them. Lisbon shook her head; even now, she could still hear her father’s voice, telling her that she was selling herself short. But then, she hadn’t seen him since her family had died. He seemed to have disappeared off the face of the planet and everyone assumed he was missing or he had killed himself. However hard she looked, it made no difference. But for now, that was irrelevant. She was happy doing what she did now and more pressingly, they had a person of interest to interview imminently.  
  
Eventually, when Jane was done, she pushed the meal aside and threw all their rubbish in the trashcan. Jane still raised an eyebrow at just how much she had left, but this time, he didn’t pass comment. This was something he could only show concern about as her friend; he could not dictate to her what she should and shouldn’t do, as her boss. Lisbon was relieved when they were back in his deathtrap of a car, and on their way to Mrs. Glover’s home. The moment’s discomfort about her eating habits had passed and now, they had a new distraction to focus on instead.  
  
Soon enough, they had arrived at their destination. Mrs. Glover kept a quaint little property, with a white picket fence and a black and white cat was sitting and licking its paw nonchalantly on the doorstep. As Lisbon and Jane approached, it paused in its quest to wash itself, green eyes flickered slightly in distaste and then, the tail started to swish from left to right and back again. When they got that little too close, it dashed into the backyard, keen to make itself scarce. Lisbon didn't bother paying too much heed to the creature; the only thing it served to tell them was that it most likely belonged to the woman they were about to visit, and as a consequence, she probably had a penchant for cats. It didn’t say a thing about whether or not she was involved in the crime they were investigating. Jane knocked on the door three times and Lisbon waited patiently by his side. It only took thirty seconds for the woman to answer. When she did, she was holding another cat in her arms, a tabby this time. She placed it on the ground and like the other cat, it quickly darted out of the way. Mrs. Glover frowned in silence; she didn't bother to say hello or ask who they were. Instead, she waited for them to introduce themselves.  
  
"I'm Senior Agent Patrick Jane, with the CBI," Jane said and he quickly flashed his badge at her.  
  
"The CBI?" the woman asked, and furrowed her brow.  
  
"The California Bureau of Investigation," Lisbon replied, but the woman still seemed to appear oblivious. "It’s a law enforcement agency, here, in California."  
  
"Oh. I only moved here two years ago. With my cats, of course."  
  
"We know," Lisbon assured her.  
  
"And who are you? You look sort of familiar."  
  
"Teresa Lisbon. I'm a consultant for the CBI."  
  
"No, no. I've seen you someplace before."  
  
Lisbon's heart sank a little at this statement. Usually if a stranger recognized her, it was because they knew her from somewhere in her colorful history. Most specifically, it meant they had probably seen her on television, fooling the masses into believing she was actually a psychic and getting paid a healthy wage in exchange for her blatant lies. She hated it when people remembered her for her lurid past because that wasn't the person she was now. It wasn't really the person she'd been back then either; she had been forced into that act and had never really had the opportunity to make her escape. When she had tried to flee the carnival lifestyle, her father had promptly followed her and re-ingratiated himself in her life, by becoming her manager. Lisbon had been the reason that the both of them had been able to join at all; they weren't born carnie folk. Without her, he had no place there and thus, he had been punished accordingly. But since her father's sudden disappearance from her life, she had begun to actually have the opportunity to take proper control of it. She only wished it hadn't cost her daughter and husband their lives as well.  
  
"She used to work as a psychic," Jane explained and Lisbon swallowed down the desire to groan at his revelation. As far as she was concerned, it bordered on irrelevancy, what she had once been.  
  
"That's the one; I knew I recognized her pretty face. So you can read minds, then, lady?"  
  
"No," Lisbon answered bluntly.  
  
"No?" Glover echoed.  
  
"I read body language. There's a fine difference."  
  
"So you lied, back then."  
  
"Something like that," Lisbon answered with a shrug. She had never actually labeled herself as a psychic once. Not to her many customers, not on television, nor anywhere else. Instead, other people chose to give her that name and her father had been the one to claim she was a bone fide psychic. She just never bothered to correct the misconception, partially out of the fear of his wrath.  
  
"Hmm..."  
  
"We're not here to talk about Teresa's history, as fascinating as it may be. We need to talk to you about the murder of Stefan Benton."  
  
In spite of her obvious distaste (and probably, somewhat hypocritical) disdain of Lisbon's past, the woman shrugged her shoulders and let them both inside. There were more cats in the lounge and they had to shoo away a couple just to be able to sit on the couch. Lisbon liked cats as much as any person who hadn't really been around them could, but she certainly believed that the number that Mrs. Glover seemed to own was overkill. Still, there was no talking sense into some people and it wasn't really her place to judge on this specific issue. Glover quickly offered them both a drink, but Lisbon declined. She still didn't trust taking drinks from strangers; she hadn't since she was a kid. She could never know what people had secretly snuck into them. Jane, meanwhile, was clearly delighted at the chance to have a cup of tea and the woman soon served him up a cup of the stuff.  
  
"Tragic news," Mrs. Glover said the moment that she was finally ready to settle down. "He was such a promising young man and his sermons were always so inspirational. Especially for the younger generation and they, clearly are the future of our church. Such a terrible loss."  
  
She drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes several times. There were no tears, Lisbon could tell that at just a single glance. This woman was putting on an act and hoping desperately that she could sell it. Unfortunately, she was failing dismally. Lisbon shared a quick glance with Jane and she could tell that he had seen through her lies already too. Mrs. Glover was definitely hiding something and the question was what. Lisbon let her eyes scan around the room. There were several pictures of cats, as she expected of a crazy cat lady. A picture of her son's wedding day; the resemblance was unmistakable. There were also photographs of a young baby, who had turned into a delightful little girl and eventually... a delightful little girl suffering from cancer. _Ah_ , she thought. _There's our little clue. The hunch was right_.  
  
Jane asked her a few perfunctory questions and she answered them diligently. They confirmed that yes, she did have access to the church's money, but, or so she claimed, it wasn't anything beyond petty cash. She had last seen the victim a couple of days ago; he'd brought up the issue about the disappearing money. Mrs. Glover claimed that she had assured him that she'd had nothing to do with it and absolutely no idea who was responsible for the murder or the missing money. Eventually, they talked about other people she suspected might have held something against him; rivals for his position in the church, anyone in the congregation who may have held some sort of dislike for him, for whatever reason. Each answer she gave was a negative, but when Jane had specifically mentioned the congregation, she had been unable to hold her gaze with them. As she looked aside, she clutched at her skirt and took a deep breath too. That was her tell, and she was lying. There was somebody within the congregation who disliked Benton for some reason or another.  
  
"What's your granddaughter's name?" Lisbon asked eventually.  
  
"Renee. She's in remission now, thank God."  
  
"I'm glad," Lisbon said and she meant it. No child deserved to die of cancer. But, the woman seemed to continue to look at her skeptically, like she couldn’t believe any of the words that came out of her mouth.  
  
Lisbon didn't care about being judged by Mrs. Glover; she continually lied through her teeth about her involvement in this case, simply to protect her own back. She clearly didn't care about the consequences of her actions and was merely looking to save her own skin. In a way, she reminded Lisbon of many of the people she used to know on the carnival circuit. They were the kinds who looked at other people merely as playthings, or as suckers, as marks as they used to call them. It was all about getting as much money out of the innocent people as possible and to hell with decency and God's honest truth. This woman was just the same, except she was taking money out of the church's pocket and lining her own. Presumably, the money had been going straight towards young Renee and her expensive healthcare.  
  
But also, it was going to somebody else. Or at least, that was what Lisbon suspected. Potentially, it was the person she knew in the congregation. Otherwise, why would she have bothered trying to protect their back too? They knew something on her; otherwise, she would have willingly sold them to the wolves and then denied all involvement with them. She had to keep digging and that was what she did.  
  
Eventually, she discovered that a friend of the woman had been dating a medic who was specializing in cancer treatments for children. He had been a child prodigy and as a consequence, his fees were not cheap. But he was the best in the business and had ended up treating the poor granddaughter. And coincidentally, this man was also a member of her church. He hadn't been for long; he had allegedly chosen to convert to Catholicism for his partner and they were due to marry soon. This man, Doctor Addison Mortimer, was the next line of inquiry they had to investigate. However, Lisbon also knew that they would both have to keep a very close eye on Mrs. Glover to wait and see what her next action was. She was definitely involved in the crime of stealing money from the church; the more important question was whether or not she was involved in the murder somehow too.  
  
They were about to leave when Jane's cellphone rang. Lisbon bid farewell for them both as Jane took the call and they walked out of the property and away from her many cats. The conversation didn't last long and she could tell that it was more bad news. It was probably something to do with Cho and Van Pelt, as they had been out in the field for a while now. They hadn't heard from either of them in a while, but that didn't always necessarily mean a bad thing. Sometimes, it was a simple case of them not having found anything of consequence, and thus, not bothering to inform Jane what was happening because it was a waste of their time and efforts.  
  
But this wasn't one of those cases. Jane was visibly concerned.  
  
"Van Pelt's been injured. She got clipped by a car when canvassing the neighborhood."  
  
Lisbon took a sharp intake of breath. Today seemed determined to bring them only bad news.  
  
And that would have been more than enough to get Jane worried.


	10. Chapter 10

"I can't keep abusing your generosity like this, Teresa," Jane said with a sigh.  
  
Lisbon scoffed at his comment; as far as she was concerned he was being ridiculous. Of course, she expected him to find his own place sooner or later - and preferably, an actual house as opposed to a dingy long stay motel like he had previously been living in. However, there was absolutely no hurry for him to do as such. Her spare bedroom was there for emergencies like this. She didn't have many friends and as for family, they were either estranged or dead. Besides, she quite liked Jane's company and having him stay provided her with the ideal opportunity to see another side of his very multi-faceted personality.  
  
"Oh, please Jane. You've only been here for one night."  
  
“It’s still not fair on you,” he said with a shrug. “As your boss and your friend, I should respect your need for privacy.  
  
“It’s just a spare bedroom, nobody else needs to be using it and you’re not getting in my way. If I ever feel the need to escape at work, I can always tag along with one of the others,” she explained patiently but could tell that he disagreed with her. "You can stay with me for as long as you need to."  
  
“But,” he started and Lisbon held up a hand to cut him off.  
  
“Besides, I was the one who insisted you left that motel. It’s my fault you don’t have anywhere else to stay. Supplying you with a roof above your head and a comfortable bed until you find somewhere better to live is the very least I can do.”  
  
As far as she was concerned, it was a relief to finally be home, where she felt safe and secure, in spite of the constant Red John threat. As it turned out, Van Pelt was just about fine and a little shaken up after her incident. The man who'd hit her had been extremely apologetic and hung around until he was sure that she was okay. But that hadn't been enough to stop Jane's panic mode from going into overdrive and him insisting upon her taking a trip to the E.R., just to be entirely sure. Only when she had gotten the all clear from a trained professional did he seem capable of relaxing properly. He couldn't help it, of course. Anything to do with car accidents triggered bad memories about his past. Just like whenever she had seen that blood red smiley face leering down at them in Jane's motel room...  
  
She paused for a second. She couldn’t allow herself to go down that route again. Not now, not after they had just lost an important lead in the case.  
  
At least Van Pelt's minor accident had just been one of those things and was entirely unrelated to the case, she told herself as she tried to drag her mindset back into a safer mode. She had been incredibly lucky; no broken bones, no head injuries, just a little shock and a few bruises. By morning she would be more than well enough to get straight back to work. Jane would see sense too once he had sorted his own head out. They were a right pair at the moment; both of them were toying with bad memories that they would have preferred to avoid. Even so, she suspected that it was far better that they spent the night in one another's company instead of wallowing alone. Jane just needed to stop feeling guilty for invading her private space too; after all, she had offered it up freely.  
  
"Cup of tea?" she asked before Jane had even settled on her couch.  
  
"I'll make it," he offered quickly and headed towards her kitchen before she even had a chance to protest. "It's the least I can do."  
  
Soon enough they were settled in front of her television, with a plate of cookies between them and hot drinks in hand. The silence was companionable; they had managed to clear up any underlying issues between them earlier at work. It almost felt nice having somebody around the house again. As much as she liked having her own private space, sometimes it was just nice to share time with somebody else, especially when it was somebody she cared about. It made her feel more comfortable in a way. And Jane, who came from a large Catholic family (though he had long since renounced his own faith), was so used to being around people that he felt claustrophobic without them. Being in the motel meant he could constantly hear people around him, even if he barely knew their names and the acquaintances he shared were merely fleeting. But it was better than being alone for him, a sort of compromise, really. Even so, he still did occasionally punish himself with solitary confinement of sorts, especially if a case had gone wrong or he’d had issues with one of his younger brothers. Brooding in his little attic space at the CBI never helped. He claimed that it helped him clear his mind, to think about cases more clearly. However, Lisbon faintly suspected that he had survivor’s guilt. He questioned why he had lived and his mother had died on a daily basis, just like she pondered over why Red John had chosen to kill her family instead of her. And he knew that nothing would have changed the fallout of what happened after the accident, just like she knew Red John had killed her family because that did more damage to an individual than their own death ever did.  
  
She could only hope that her comparatively recent inclusion in his life proved to be more beneficial than hearing strangers in the night. Lisbon hoped that he would feel less like he had let his family down and realize that he had saved so many people since then.  
  
She was the one who had hurt people. She was the one who was trying to repay for her past sins, if she ever truly could. And she was the one who had let down her family to the extent that she couldn't even try and pick up the pieces. They were both gone, forever. And her father was missing, presumed dead. Lisbon had always managed to lose everyone she ever cared about, and that was what hurt the most. This game she was playing with Jane, whatever it was, was a dangerous business. She knew that, and yet, she couldn’t stop herself. Somehow, he had managed to get underneath her skin and she suspected that the feeling was entirely mutual. That was something that was never meant to happen. Bringing justice to the state of California was fine; an honorable way for her to spend her time. Fighting crime and putting murderers behind bars, that was a part of the day job.  
  
Putting more lives at risk because they were seemingly incapable of arresting Red John? That most certainly wasn’t something she had signed up for. She didn’t like the idea of Jane, or the rest of the team for that matter, being hurt because of her. But it was a distinct possibility, she knew. It wouldn’t have been the first time he targeted somebody she cared deeply about, after all.  
  
Maybe it would be better once she could reclaim some distance from him? Jane seemed keen to give her back her own personal space. Now, as her thoughts led her to uneasy territory during this silence, she could only hope he wouldn’t take long. Not for her sake, of course. Lisbon would never be that selfish; her father had never allowed her to be, nor had her daughter after her arrival. She hoped for Jane’s sake that he’d find somewhere new; that was all there was to it. It didn’t matter that his job was already technically dangerous; there was no need for them to run the additional risk. Lisbon had a feeling that Red John didn’t want her to be happy after her family’s death. He didn’t want her to truly ga _i_ n closure after the incident, not that she would ever dream of forgetting what had happened to them. Still, he wanted her to constantly remember the wrongs she had done, and find herself unable to repay for them each and every day that went by. She would always be haunted by the past, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t box her family away, if only Red John wasn’t a constant presence in her life too.  
  
In the end, she just excused herself from the situation. Her psychiatrist had once told her that if she wanted to truly live again, then she had to stop living in fear of what _might_ happen. Her imagination was the one thing that had done the most damage to her in the months after her husband and daughter had been killed. Even now, she still found herself toying with macabre thoughts of what could happen, especially as the team had slowly but surely drawn her into their fold. Regardless, Lisbon had always known that Sophie Miller was speaking the truth. In fact, she had said the exact same words to clients herself in the past, when doing psychic readings. It was the only way to remind them that they couldn’t cling onto the ghosts of their loved ones. They may have moved onto another life, but they wouldn’t have wanted their relatives to remain stuck in the past during _this_ one. However, that didn't necessarily mean that it was easy to apply to real life situations. Lisbon couldn’t help but note the hypocrisy in her actions and mindset, but sometimes, she couldn’t help it. After everything that had happened today, she had found herself in a very pensive mood. Now, she couldn’t help but think in the ‘negative’ ways that she’d been told not to do so. But it was only natural, or so she believed. Anyone would have done the same; she knew that Jane was, as he watched terrible movies on her TV downstairs. As she clambered into bed, her bones ached but her mind was still whirring away with the thoughts of 'what if?', 'how come?' and 'why?’ Of course, the more she tried not to think of them, the more that she actually did. And she didn't have answers to any of those questions, and never would. Regardless, she could already tell that she was destined to have another very bad night's sleep.  
  
When she awoke, feeling like sleep had done her more harm than good, Lisbon made her way downstairs with bleary eyes and a fuzzy head. A feeling of dread had already enveloped her. During her sleepless night, she had remembered something Jane had said prior to him reluctantly accepting her spare bedroom. And he was right; Red John could track them down anywhere, if and when he chose to do so. He probably already knew that Jane had taken refuge in her home. Therefore, she had put them both in immediate danger. But then, she told herself firmly, that was no different to usual. The murder in Jane's old motel room had been a precise sign that Red John was watching their every move. Meanwhile, Van Pelt's accident yesterday afternoon indicated that anything could happen to any one of them and that Red John was never the only monster lingering in the shadows. Especially not when she considered what their day job generally entailed.  
  
Jane was in a cheerful mood, almost too cheerful for her liking, given how early it was. To add insult to injury, she wasn’t sure if he’d even tried to sleep the night before, whereas she had and felt all the worse for it. The smell of eggs had filled her kitchen and he was humming gently as he cooked the breakfast. She hadn't asked him to do such a thing, but he probably felt compelled to do so. Besides, she sincerely doubted he had much else to do at that specific moment in time. With the case, for example, they couldn’t get much farther until they interviewed Dr. Mortimer. He turned around, spatula in hand as she approached him. The smile on his face was warm and genuine, and she couldn’t help but reciprocate it. Unlike her, he looked comparatively well rested, even if he hadn’t been able to rest. As she took a seat at her table, she decided that it was good that at least one of them was feeling like that.  
  
"I hope eggs is okay; I raided your cupboards and had to make do with limited options."  
  
She nodded; it was too late to complain anyway as he was already dishing up. Soon enough, a plateful of scrambled eggs was placed in front of her. Jane hovered, refusing to take a seat until he had heard her verdict on the food. Slowly, Lisbon picked up her fork and took a reluctant mouthful. When she placed it back down again, he was still looking at her hopefully.  
  
"This is lovely, Jane. Thank you."  
  
In truth, she wasn't quite sure how she was going to eat it all. Usually, the most she had for breakfast was a piece of fruit, a banana or an apple, which she grabbed without much thought before she rushed into work. Lisbon prided herself with making a good impression on her colleagues; she was often first to arrive and last to leave. She worked as hard as any cop on the paper trails, believing that she might just be able to see something they missed. It was also her way of proving how deadly serious she was about the job; often consultants were seen merely as time-wasters and people looking for an ego boost. She wasn't like that; she genuinely cared about justice.  
  
"I know you normally don't eat much, but if you're going to be kind enough to lend me your spare room, then I'm going to look after you while I’m here," he said firmly  
  
"Really, there's no need," she protested.  
  
"If I don't, then who will?"  
  
"I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself," she retorted, a hint of anger seeping into her voice.  
  
"Teresa, I've seen the state of your cupboards. I know that isn't entirely true."  
  
"Jane..."  
  
"Come on, eat up. I've got mine here too."  
  
She pursed her lips but obeyed instructions. In spite of her tiredness and her lack of hunger, she wasn't willing to let good food go to waste. Worse, she didn't want to offend Jane. Everything he’d done, he’d only done with good intentions. Besides, he was her boss; he was the one whose opinion meant the most when it came to her job. And then, despite all efforts, despite her jumbled thoughts, they seemed to be getting inexplicably closer. She had a feeling that the harder she tried to fight it, the more inevitable it seemed to become.  
  
But it still seemed wrong. She was meant to be mourning the death of her beloved family and seeking justice for them by working with the CBI. Instead, she seemed to be forming emotional connections with people she simply didn't expect to do so. When she’d joined the CBI, she had made a firm belief to remain aloof and focus purely on the job. They, and especially Minelli and Jane, had made that virtually impossible. At this moment in time, she refused to label her relationship with Jane as anything specific; that was far too risky. She knew that he was sending her mixed messages, and that she was doing entirely the same. Perhaps, if their situations were different and they had moved on from their respective paths, then something could have happened between them. For now, they were doomed to this endless dance, with no end in sight. And precisely how it would end, she couldn't say. All she could do was pray that, whatever it was, it wouldn't be some sort of disaster.  
  
xxx

They didn’t go straight to the headquarters this morning; instead, Jane updated the rest of his team on what he wanted them to do via cellphone. Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho had a lot of consolidating to do on minor leads they’d picked up while canvassing the neighborhood and doing the paper chains. Afterwards, he expected all three of them to focus their energies on working out who killed their lead to Red John. But for now, he and Lisbon had a pressing engagement with a certain Dr. Addison Mortimer. Jane was relieved that the man had been able to ‘squeeze them’ into his incredibly busy schedule. However, at the same time, he found it a little irksome. Of course, he respected that the doctor’s patients were vitally important, but they also had an important job to do. Just because he saved the living, it didn’t mean that honoring the dead needed to be disregarded.  
  
But then, most doctors treated homicide detectives with that same kind of disdain. They often had a superiority complex because they were the ones who kept people alive, whereas he was knee-deep in dead bodies. Jane had always found a certain pleasure in dealing justice out, but medics tended to see it as being a fruitless task. They didn’t save lives, they didn’t offer hope. If anything, they dealt out more misery. However, if one doctor could see just how many people had thanked him for the job he did, then maybe their perspective on fighting crime would have altered a little. No, he couldn’t physically save somebody’s life, but he could stop people from getting killed by getting murderers off the streets. And he could also offer a strange mix, a certain brand of justice and closure for people close to the victim. That always helped and he could see it in the eyes of the people he dealt with. Jane was proud of the job he did, and he also took a certain level of satisfaction in his methodology too. He liked the fact that he had turned crime fighting up on its head. It certainly made his unit a lot more effective than his peers, too.  
  
Lisbon was very pensive during the journey. The same reluctance to talk that she’d had the night before had clearly lingered. That worried him more than he cared to admit, but out of a begrudging respect for her and her brilliance, he kept quiet. As much as he’d changed the way they fought crime, she had that little extra finesse that he lacked. Not that he’d ever dare admit it to her, mind. Even he knew that his ego wouldn’t be able to admit to the fact he actually thought she was better at solving crimes than he was. Still, she was a little more hesitant when it came to getting that final bit of evidence to close it, that little more cautious about the methods he chose. But he couldn’t blame her for that. She knew what could happen when somebody chose to push things too far.  
  
All too soon, they arrived at the hospital. With the assistance of his badge, they were quickly whisked to a waiting room and told to take a seat. The prim receptionist promised that Dr. Mortimer would be there as soon as he could; he was currently held up in a staff meeting. Jane couldn’t stifle the smirk; even doctors were subject to the terribly mundane (and time-wasting) meetings that he, too, had to endure. He still swore blind that, when it came down to it, the professions weren’t all that different. They all came under the umbrella term of emergency services. However, the rivalries between medicine, law enforcement, and firefighting were ancient and nothing was going to change that.  
  
Time felt as though it was beginning to slow down. Out of boredom, he picked up one of the trashy magazines that had been left on the occasional table and flicked through it. Of course, there was nothing of interest in it and he was soon bored stiff once again. Then, he took to watching Lisbon. There was nobody else in the waiting room for him to turn his attention to and even if there was, there would have been nobody else he’d have found quite as fascinating as her. It took her half a minute to notice; previously, she had been sitting with her arms crossed defensively as she stared stubbornly at the clock on the opposite wall. He couldn’t help her for that; if he could, he would have willed time to move faster too. Or at least, he would have hurried it up to the time their person of interest arrived in his office, at any rate.  
  
“What are you doing?” she asked, a touch self-consciously.  
  
“Watching you?”  
  
“Why?”  
  
It was an unusual question, especially for a one-time minor celebrity such as herself. Theoretically, she should have been more than used to attention being lavished upon her. Especially so, when he considered the fact that a part of her job description almost relied upon mutual attention. It was always far easier to get a read of somebody who was actually paying as much attention to you as you were of them. But then, it probably reminded her of uncomfortable times, when she had been forced to do something she hated, just to make her father happy. She had confessed as much to him shortly after she had started working with the CBI, and he had appreciated her frankness at the time. However, she was a complicated creature, full of contradictions, and he knew he still had a lot left to learn about Ms. Teresa Lisbon.  
  
He was about to answer her back when somebody entered the room. Initially, Jane believed it would merely be Mortimer’s first patient of the day, especially when he took a precursory glance at the time, but he was pleasantly surprised to see the doctor himself. He apologized swiftly for the day, before ushering them both into his office. Jane took the opportunity to introduce them both, but Mortimer looked less than impressed by the fact the CBI had taken to hiring a consultant. It only took a second or so for him to actually say as such.  
  
“So, the CBI is hiring civilians to do police work now? Times really must be tough. Aren’t your standards slipping as a consequence?”  
  
“I’m good at my job,” Lisbon replied, glowering slightly.  
  
“She is amongst the best crime fighters I know,” Jane confirmed, with a decisive nod. “And besides, the Serious Crimes Unit’s closed case record has never been better.”  
  
“Hmm,” Mortimer replied skeptically, but he didn’t elaborate.  
  
“But let’s move onto more pressing matters, shall we?” Lisbon asked and it was clear that she didn’t want the battle of egos to go too far.  
  
And she was right, of course. However, that didn’t necessarily mean Jane approved of a single word that the doctor said to them. He was very good at evading questions, and didn’t much like it when Lisbon politely pointed it out to him. Jane wasn’t sure, but he thought he was trying to hide something. The question was whether or not it was murder, or something unrelated to his jurisdiction. Of course, part of Jane almost hoped that it was murder, because he knew he would take great joy in bringing this man back down to size. He had quickly got to the stage where he didn’t even care how many lives Dr. Addison Mortimer had saved throughout his career, how much money he had raised for various charities, or what qualifications he’d achieved in his illustrious career. Doctors always liked to feel they were the cleverest person in the room, but as far as Jane was concerned, Mortimer wasn’t, not by a long shot.  
  
Soon enough, they bid the man farewell; they had spent less time in his office than they had done actually waiting for him. Jane was still very irritated and thought very little of the man. He remained in a stubborn silence until they reached his precious blue Citroen. At least they were back out of the hospital; he loathed those places. And now, he was very pleased that he had the opportunity to pick Lisbon’s thoughts on Mortimer without the risk of any prying eyes or ears.  
  
Before he had the chance to do so, however, Cho rang him. Grumbling slightly, Jane answered the call. Cho was as quick to the point as ever. He’d spent the morning back at the church, consolidating leads and looking through the victim’s office. The forensics guys had also been in contact with him. As it turned out, the man’s source of Earl Grey tea had been poisoned. Stefan Benton was the only person to drink said tea, and kept his stash in a drawer in his office. Jane quickly thanked him, said goodbye and then he turned to face Lisbon. Finally, he could actually hear her thoughts on Dr. Addison Mortimer.  
  
“So, what did you think?”  
  
“You didn’t like him, did you?” Lisbon replied lightly.  
  
“That’s evasion, my dear. Something you chastised the ‘good doctor’ for during the interview.” He made air quotes over the words good doctor, just to prove his point.  
  
“You _really_ didn’t like him,” she continued and she smirked back at him.  
  
“Teresa…”  
  
“Don’t worry, Jane. He may be clever, but he’s not _that_ clever.”  
  
“You think he’s guilty?”  
  
“This is a man who spends his life cutting up people’s bodies as a career. He knows what he’s doing. And he knows his drugs and poisons too.”  
  
Jane thought over this remark for a second. Knowing that kind of thing didn’t necessarily make him a guilty man. It was the kind of thing that was almost common knowledge amongst doctors of a certain level. If they didn’t know that sort of thing, then they wouldn’t have been physically capable of doing their jobs properly. He was about to open his mouth to retort, when Lisbon cut in smoothly once more.  
  
“Oh, and he has a penchant for Leonardo Da Vinci. Please tell me you didn’t miss the postcards of the Mona Lisa and the Vitruvian Man on his bookcase?”


	11. Chapter 11

"He is desperate to cover up his tracks. Anyone would be in his shoes. Besides, you saw how little respect he had for us. He believes he’s more intelligent than the both of us put together."  
  
In an instant, he suddenly saw her wearing her defeated expression. Usually, the concept of more people dying before they caught the killer was enough to convince her to go along with one of his plans. She hated the idea of more people suffering, like she did on a daily basis, without closure after a relative's murder. Once again, his ploy had worked but he knew she had still seen through it. One of these days, he knew he would have to stop using that trick on her, not because she saw it coming, but because he felt bad for using it on her. That was happening more and more frequently, especially as he was getting to know her better with each and every day that went past. Jane couldn’t help but respect Lisbon; there was just something about her which made him feel like she deserved that.  
  
"You say that on purpose," she grumbled and glared at him. "But I don't really have much of a choice do I? You're the boss."  
  
"Yes I am," Jane replied and he grinned brightly.  
  
For a consultant, Lisbon was an exceptionally good subordinate. Jane had heard many of the other team leaders within the CBI complain about their consultants, but not once had he had an issue with her. That was a simple fact that made the others incredibly jealous of Jane’s good fortune. After all, she didn’t follow her own rules, she understood that she needed to listen to the team leader and did so willingly. It didn’t necessarily stop her from questioning certain decisions, but that made him a better boss too. It meant he had to have answers and justifications for each and every one of her questions. They really were a good team, even if she was a little more skeptical about that.  
  
"I'm glad, because that means, if anything goes wrong it’s on _your_ head."  
  
"It would be anyway, Teresa," Jane said quietly as he stood. "I'm responsible for my team and all their actions and that includes _you_. It wouldn't have mattered if somebody else, if you even, had come up with this scheme. It'd still be my fault for giving it the go ahead."  
  
"Or alternatively, failing to control your unit?" Lisbon answered back with a grin.  
  
"Hey, I'm a good team leader!"  
  
"I never said you weren't," she said smoothly.  
  
"Ah, but you insinuated it."  
  
"You read what you wanted to read out of it. C'mon, let's stop wasting time and get this disaster of a plan over and done with."  
  
They stopped off at a grocery store on the way back to the church. Jane didn’t need to buy much; just some Earl Grey tea and he knew he had time for the brief diversion. Benton’s memorial service was due to go ahead within a couple of hours, but Jane had organized a meeting with the staff there prior to the service. Lisbon hadn’t been surprised in the slightest by the fact he had already set his plans into motion, and was merely requesting her assistance with it. He knew that he could easily have asked one of the others to do so, but it just wouldn’t have been the same. Besides, now that they had a key suspect, Jane had re-prioritized the death of Red John’s ‘friend’ on CBI premises, and he wanted them to keep digging into it without distraction. In fact, he had made it clear that, by the time they got back to headquarters, he was expecting some decent progress into the investigation.  
  
He had also kind of promised the staff that he would have made an arrest and would be announcing who was responsible at the meeting. That wasn’t exactly true; he was hoping to make the arrest at the church. But still, he’d needed to say this to ensure that all the staff would be present at the meeting, including a certain Mrs. Glover. Jane didn’t doubt that she would tell the good doctor that it was going ahead, and thus, that he would be there. As they got closer and closer to the building, his confidence increased. It was such a simple trick, and that was the beauty in it. There was absolutely no way that it couldn’t work. Lisbon, meanwhile, seemed to be harboring some kind of resentment for dragging her into this plan, but that wasn’t anything new. She always got a little apprehensive when his plans to close cases were a little on the unusual side.  
  
“It’ll be fine,” he assured her as they pulled up outside. “C’mon, it’s not like we haven’t done anything like this before.”  
  
“That’s no reason for us to do it again,” she replied flatly.  
  
“You know this’ll work.”  
  
“And what will Minelli think of this ridiculous plan? And what if Mortimer sees through your thinly veiled excuse of a con?”  
  
“Meh, Minelli’s my problem. _I’m_ yours.”  
  
Jane explicitly made a point of ignoring her second question. The man was clever, so the thought that he might see straight through it hadn’t passed him by. There hadn’t been any tea left in Benton’s office, beyond the cup of the stuff that had been prepared for him. The murderer had already lifted it. All they could do was hope that he would doubt himself for a second over whether or not he actually did take it away. Otherwise, he would have to go back to the drawing board and the ‘gloriously simple’ trick would be a waste of their time.  
  
“That sounds rather threatening for my liking,” Lisbon answered back.  
  
“Good,” Jane answered back and he grinned. “So you know what you’re doing?”  
  
“Sit in the pews and when Mortimer comes by; tell him you’re in the office, drinking Benton’s stash of Earl Grey in memory of the victim. It’s not that difficult.”  
  
“I’ll see you soon.”  
  
Slowly, he sauntered towards the office and left her sitting down nearby. Jane had seen Mortimer pull up outside, so he hoped that this wouldn’t take long at all. The members of staff were all present in the office, excepting Mrs. Glover. Somebody apologized for her absence, but Jane didn’t bother making a note of who it was. It didn’t really matter anyway. As he prepared the tea, he sent a cautionary text message to Lisbon, warning her that things might have changed. He knew that he could trust her to alter the plans if entirely necessary. When he was done, he turned to face the staff. They were getting impatient by his delays and wanted an explanation of what was going on. He’d promised them answers, and so far, he had actually offered them none.  
  
But they would get them, soon. He was certain of that.  
  
xxx  
  
Lisbon had offered a couple of quiet prayers while she waited alone. As always, it felt like the most natural thing for her to do while she was in a church. She had received Jane’s message, expressing concern that the Glover woman hadn’t arrived, and made note of it. He believed it complicated matters, but she actually believed it probably simplified them. She would have been told that Jane expected to inform them of the identity of the person responsible for the young pastor’s murder. Her staying away implied that she was definitely involved in it somehow. Why would she have wanted to be there if he was only going to name her as one of the perpetrators?  
  
It wasn’t long until the silence was rudely interrupted, just five minutes after Jane had disappeared into the deceased’s office, where the rest of the staff members were waiting for him. High heels clicked against the hardwood floor and the woman paused beside the bowl of holy water. Then, a second pair of footsteps followed and it was then that Lisbon glanced over her shoulders.  
  
“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned,” Mrs. Glover said, loud enough for her to be overheard, but quiet enough to imply that she wanted privacy.  
  
“You really believe in that crap, Susan?” Dr. Mortimer asked her.  
  
“Don’t say that, Addison. Not here.”  
  
“Why not?” he replied, clearly amused by her obvious discomfort.  
  
“It’s disrespectful,” Glover answered back bluntly.  
  
“To whom, exactly?”  
  
The woman didn’t answer him and instead, they walked back down the aisle and towards Benton’s old office together. Lisbon remained still for a moment, she didn’t want to interrupt the flow of their conversation unless entirely necessary. She found it unusual just how openly they were speaking, especially considering how blindingly obvious her presence was. But then, this conversation was probably important to them – and as long as they kept their discussion oblique enough, then there was no harm done. Except, of course, Teresa Lisbon knew exactly what they were talking about because she was investigating the murder they had carried out.  
  
“The police say they’ve caught the killer,” Mrs. Glover said in low tones. “There’s a meeting going ahead now, with the cops.”  
  
“Really? I wouldn’t be so certain of that. And why, pray tell, are you not listening in for us?”  
  
“I thought you needed to know first.”  
  
The confidence in Mortimer’s voice said it all. He genuinely believed they had made an arrest, and that the CBI had the wrong man behind bars. Thus, he was certain that he had gotten away with his sordid crime and was ready to gloat about it. It was at that moment when Lisbon chose to stand up and face them both. Mortimer’s face dropped the moment he saw her; he recognized her in an instant. But then, the first time they had met was just twenty-four hours previously, so that was hardly surprising. She stuck out a hand, which he shook nervously and she smiled gently at him. In spite of herself, she decided that this plan was actually going to be quite fun for her. After all, she got to witness this doctor’s downfall firsthand, whereas Jane was busy setting up the rest of the trick behind closed doors.  
  
“It’s good to see you both again.”  
  
“Where’s your boss?” he asked, surprisingly bluntly. “I’d like to see him.”  
  
“In the office, making a toast to the staff in memory of Stefan Benton,” Lisbon explained quickly, confirming to him that what Glover had said was true. Besides, she knew this man had very little patience, especially for a children’s doctor.  “Agent Jane felt like he needed to pay his respects prior to the official memorial service where the general public is invited, of course. I believe he’s using Benton’s favorite, Earl Grey tea…”  
  
The woman’s face dropped and she rushed towards the office door and immediately pushed it open. Dr. Mortimer was hot in pursuit, and Lisbon followed up behind them. She was still keen to hear what he had to say. It wasn’t all that surprising that the woman was the first to question herself and her involvement in the crime. Jane had been so fixated on pinning it all on Dr. Mortimer that he had forgotten the mere possibility that other people could have been (and as it seemed, _were_ ) involved. After all, both Glover and Mortimer had something to lose once their business had been leaked. And that applied even more so, now that between them, they had taken a life.  
  
“Susan! You removed the box, remember when I-“  
  
“Yes?” Lisbon asked innocuously.  
  
“Never you mind.”  
  
The door was sprung open to see Jane with his lips around the cup of tea. Glover pushed everyone aside, knocked the cup of tea out of his hand and then snatched everyone else’s away too. She only paused for breath when she was certain that nobody was drinking the ‘poisoned’ tea. Complaints and questions were immediately thrown in both her and Mortimer’s general direction and it was then that the woman realized that the game was up. Mortimer abruptly turned to leave, but Lisbon placed a hand on his chest and quirked an eyebrow in his general direction. They weren’t going anywhere.  
  
“But the tea, it was poisoned! I swear I heard-“  
  
“Give it up, Mrs. Glover,” Lisbon said sharply. “Only the killer knew about the tea.”  
  
“Oh,” she replied, her voice sounding small.  
  
“This was my own personal supply,” Jane continued lightly and shook the half-full box in her direction. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Stefan Benton. You too, Dr. Mortimer, so I suggest you stop fighting my consultant and come along quietly.”  
  
Soon after, Jane had them both in handcuffs. The audience watched in stunned silence as he guided them both away and back to his car. Jane looked incredibly pleased with himself, but Lisbon was merely relieved. If something had gone wrong with this, there could have been no end of complaints. And possible lawsuits too, when she came to think about it. Besides, ‘CBI Offends Local Church’ was a headline that none of them wanted to be reading. Lisbon was sure that the nervous chatter, and then the inevitable gossip, would start up again relatively soon. People just couldn’t resist talking about others’ misfortune, regardless of what walk of life they came from. Even so, as thrilled as their audience inevitably was at the fact the case had been solved, and that the murderers of their young pastor had been apprehended, there couldn’t help but be some disappointment to how it ended. This was a place of worship and somebody had abused it – and their religion – for their own means. In reality, there were never any winners in situations such as these ones.  
  
Their suspects remained stubbornly silent as they were driven back to the CBI headquarters for questioning and Lisbon was grateful for it. In truth, beyond a confession and an explanation for their actions, she really didn’t feel like they could say anything she really wanted to hear. Before leaving, Jane had called Cho, asking him to organize a search warrant for both of their suspects’ premises.  Once on the road, they dropped back into an easy conversation, partially to avoid falling into an uncomfortable silence, what with having suspects in the vehicle with them, but mostly to show that they were unperturbed by their presence. Arresting people was a part of their day job; nothing these two individuals could do would faze them.  
  
It was fifteen minutes after they had arrived at the CBI headquarters before she saw Jane again. Lisbon knew why; he was too caught up with setting up the interviews with their two suspects. Glover was already in an interrogation room with Cho and Rigsby; Lisbon knew it wouldn’t take either of them long to get her to crumble. Meanwhile, they were going to deal with Mortimer imminently. The moment he had been dragged out of Jane’s vehicle, he had started bleating about his lawyer, which was to be expected. Doctors often had a close relationship with lawyers; they were often sued for bogus reasons, such as supposedly botched surgery and the like. Unfortunately, it also meant that Mortimer knew not to talk without his lawyer present and that generally, his lawyer was going to be the wily, clever type.  
  
Of course, that didn’t mean that they would find it impossible to get a confession. Between her and Jane, they would be more than a match for Mortimer and his lawyer. It would be fine and he would get his comeuppance.  Or at least, that was what she told herself. They had gotten this far; she needed to have faith that they would finish the job. Otherwise, what was the point in her putting her faith in the law at all?  
  
“Hey,” Jane said as he entered his office. “You ready?”  
  
“Yeah, nearly.”  
  
She drained the cup of coffee she had been sipping at while she waited for him. Then, she stood and stretched her back muscles. If they got this case closed, then they would be able to have a nice early finish to the day for a change. That was something that she could imagine the rest of the team would most likely appreciate too. Apparently, they had been making good headway into the Red John mole investigation too, so it would be well deserved. Slowly, she went to head out of his office, but he caught her by the wrist before she had a chance to leave. Briefly, she glanced down at his hand on her skin and frowned. At that moment, he promptly let go of it, but it had done its job. It had made her immediately pause in her tracks.  
  
“Yes, Jane?” she said as she crossed her arms defensively.  
  
“I just wanted to say thanks.”  
  
“What for?”  
  
“Just… you know.”  
  
“I was only doing my job,” she said softly. “I just did what you told me to do.”  
  
“But I know how you hate those kinds of plans.”  
  
She didn’t deny it. The reason why she hated them so much was because they reminded her of all the tricks and mind games that her father had forced her to play on innocent, unsuspecting people. He said they were marks, suckers. That it didn’t matter what she did to them because they weren’t a part of the carnival, and therefore, her surrogate family.  If anything, he insinuated that they deserved to be fooled and tricked in such a way. However, Lisbon had always realized that they were just human, and that they certainly didn’t deserve to be fleeced. She had always believed that people should be treated in the way that she wanted to be treated in return. Her father never let her act in that way, and eventually, because she hadn’t been capable of standing up to him, she had paid the ultimate price. If she had behaved differently, then maybe her husband would have still been standing by her side. Then, she might have had a chance to watch her beautiful daughter grow up.  
  
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just go and get this confession, shall we?”  
  
“If you’re sure?”  
  
“I am,” she said with confidence. “I just want to get this over and done with now. You must feel the same way, too?”  
  
“Of course I do. Come on, then.”  
  
Moments before they entered the interrogation room, Rigsby stopped them. It almost seemed like they were doomed to delay after delay with this interview. However, she couldn’t be frustrated with him for too long; he brought good news with him. Susan Glover had admitted to the crimes she had been charged with freely. She had also agreed to testify against Dr. Addison Mortimer in exchange for a lesser sentence. Now, they didn’t even need Mortimer to confess to murder; it would merely be the icing on the cake in order to ensure that the case they handed over to the D.A. was rock solid. Lisbon couldn’t help but smile; she liked it when cases ended like this. Barring Jane’s trick – which was only a small one, comparatively speaking – it was a nice, clean case. There weren’t going to be any issues with this one.  
  
As soon as they entered the interrogation room, Mortimer started complaining about the absence of his lawyer yet again. Cho had already headed over to stall the man, to give them a chance to work Mortimer without the lawyer advising that he shouldn’t answer the vast majority of their questions. Lisbon, like Jane, ignored the complaints and instead, took a seat directly opposite him. They needed to get on with this interview, because it was meant to be a master class, of sorts, for Grace Van Pelt. The young rookie was eagerly watching their every move the other side of the one-way mirror, along with Virgil Minelli.  
  
“There’s been a car crash a few blocks from here,” Jane lied smoothly, much to her surprise. “He’ll be here as soon as he can. In the meantime, I’d recommend that you assist us in every way possible. It’ll make things a lot easier on you in the long run.”  
  
“Is that so?” the man said with a sneer. “Because I’m not saying a word until my lawyer gets here.”  
  
Lisbon didn’t bother saying a word as the two men played off one another. Sometimes she did play a more active role in interrogations, but on this instance, it just wasn’t necessary. Besides, it was almost amusing to see them both getting wound up at one another’s stubbornness. And it was interesting, seeing Mortimer alternate between lying through his teeth about his involvement in the case (or at least, refusing point blank to comment on it) and demanding access to his lawyer. It was clear that he didn’t believe Jane’s lies about where his lawyer was. By this point, even Lisbon had to admit that Cho was doing an exceptionally good job at stalling the man. Usually, the lawyers would have interrupted by now and grown infuriated with Jane for talking to their client without them being present.  
  
Five minutes later, they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Jane stood to answer it, and it was then that Lisbon looked Mortimer in the eye seriously. She considered reaching out to touch his wrist, to measure his pulse maybe, but that was unnecessary. The pulse in his temple was raging and told her more than enough. Jane had done a remarkably good job at winding Mortimer up. He was almost at breaking point.  
  
“Let’s abandon pretense, Dr. Mortimer,” she said and closed the files in front of her. “Why would you want a pastor dead? What harm could he do to you?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“At face value, maybe,” she continued smoothly. “But I’ve seen the paper trails. Money _talks_ , Doctor. Your Mrs. Glover did a very bad job at covering that up. We can see clearly how the money has transferred from the church, to her hand, to yours and then, to your hospital. Stealing from a church; not very moral, is it?”  
  
“I saved her granddaughter’s life, you know.”  
  
“And I’m sure her whole family is thrilled at Renee’s continued survival. But that doesn’t explain why you’ve gotten so _greedy_.”  
  
“I can save so many lives. It’s more than what the church would ever do. They’re corrupt.”  
  
“Hmm…”  
  
She tapped a finger against her bottom lip as she considered his statement. He had just clarified everything that Cho and Rigsby had failed to do so with Glover. The pieces were finally falling into place. It surprised her that he had even decided to talk to her at all, now that Jane had gone. He knew they were still taping them; common sense must have also dictated that they were being watched through the one-way mirror. But, there was a hint of tiredness in his eyes. Maybe he had just run out of energy to fight them.  
  
That, and a moderately pretty face, speaking in a soothing voice, never hurt anyone. She wasn’t hypnotizing him; she knew it was illegal. However, that didn’t mean she was below using her femininity to get a confession. Sometimes, it was just too easy.  
  
“So, Benton was going to talk?”  
  
“And think of all those children, whose lives are at risk. If he just stayed quiet, then nobody would have needed to get hurt. But he…”  
  
“He didn’t?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Do you regret what you’ve done?”  
  
“No,” he added with a hint of hostility. “I believe in my job, Ms. Lisbon. It does so much good. Which is more than can be said for you and your career.”  
  
“Thank you for your time.”  
  
Jane was grinning at her the moment she exited the interrogation room. They headed straight to his office, leaving Rigsby to deal with Mortimer. It was a good day’s work, but Jane needed to finalize the paperwork, as much as he hated to do it. There was no point on these two criminals sitting in their holding cells when they could be moved to proper jails. Then, they could probably indulge a little; spoil themselves with closed case pizza or donuts, as tradition dictated. But, before they got much further, there was a stranger standing in Jane’s office. It wasn’t Mortimer’s lawyer; he was probably busy berating his client for talking at all. Instead, it was a man she had never seen before in her life.  
  
Immediately, Jane went to introduce himself, but he brushed him aside. Instead, he turned to face Lisbon. She could feel a frown knotting between her eyebrows. For some reason, she got the distinct impression that she wouldn’t like what this man had to say.  
  
“You’re Teresa Lisbon?”  
  
“Yes, I am,” she confirmed.  
  
“Do you recognize this man?”  
  
He handed over a photograph of a beat-up man in a hospital bed. The individual looked like he was comatose; there were wires sticking out from all parts of his body. But the shocking state of the person didn’t matter; she knew exactly who it was.  
  
“That’s my father,” she said in a hushed breath.


	12. Chapter 12

“So…”  
  
Jane started on her from the moment that she exited the elevator. She hadn’t even had a chance to make it to the bullpen, never mind the kitchenette. Lisbon knew that Jane would be intrigued by the re-emergence of her father. In fact, she had mentally prepared herself for the bombardment of questions during her whole trip back from the hospital. This was the moment she was still dreading though; Jane’s curiosity was voracious and she knew that she would have to be fairly open with him in order to satisfy his appetite for information. Of course, she was highly skilled at dodging questions, but that didn’t necessarily mean that she liked doing so. If anything, it made her feel all the worse. She had started this job in the hope of proving to herself (and the world) that she was a better person than she perceived herself to be. Abusing the trust of people she was beginning to care about would not help matters, as far as Lisbon was concerned.  
  
She hadn’t stayed long at the hospital; there wasn’t really all that much for her to actually see. Her father was alive, if only just and currently comatose. Lisbon spent a good long while talking to his doctor, seeing what his prognosis was and trying to discern what had actually caused him to land up in such a state. Of course, they had no clue whatsoever how he’d spent the past three years; she hadn’t heard from him at all since the day her family had been killed. The doctor didn’t know anything of any use to her, at least beyond the news of his health; the LEOs who’d brought him in had said very little. Throughout the conversation, Lisbon found a sense of foreboding had enveloped her. She didn’t much like secrets and lies, but then, it was almost standard fare for her relationship with her dad. Why she had expected any different, just because he was on death’s door, she didn’t know.  
  
Still. That didn’t change her Jane dilemma. Naturally, instinct told her that she should be honest with him; she was _not_ her father’s daughter. However, the very thought of Jane and her father getting to know one another felt dangerous. She knew without having introduced them that they would be an explosive combination. Her father, who toed the line between the law and lawlessness, and a maverick cop, together? Every bone in her body screamed out at her to prevent it at all costs. In some ways, it was almost a blessing in disguise that her dad was unconscious. At least he and Jane couldn’t cause any problems with him in such a state.  
But even then, she still wouldn’t put it past him. Lisbon knew exactly what Mr. Jason Hamilton was like. After all, he had raised her from birth.  
  
Even shedding her birth name and taking on her husband’s surname for good would never have been enough to completely distance herself from him. As tragic as the death of her family had been, and she had reacted terribly to it at the time, at least it had given her some breathing space from him, if only for a short while.  
  
“So, what?” she asked innocuously.  
  
“How did it go?”  
  
“He’s unconscious. They don’t know when – or if – he’ll wake up.”  
  
They headed naturally towards Jane’s office. Of course, he gravitated towards his couch and she took to the seat beside his table. They had spent so many hours in this position, discussing cases in detail, working the paper trails and the like. It felt right to be like this in Jane’s office; it was as simple as that.  
  
“Teresa,” Jane said softly. “What’s the deal with your father? There’s barely anything on his records, and you don’t speak about him…”  
  
“Do we really have to do this?”  
  
“I think so. C’mon, it won’t be so bad once you get it over and done with. Think of it like a Band-Aid.”  
  
“Jane…”  
  
“I’m your friend, first and foremost and then your boss,” he reminded her casually and she stared at him, agog. “And this has obviously rattled you. Yes, I think it’s time we talked about this.”  
  
Figuratively, she could feel her knees buckling as the weight of the world fell on top of her shoulders. This was the moment when she knew she would give into Patrick Jane and give him exactly what he wanted. It was rarely due to what he said, but the look he shot her and expressions he wore as he spoke. But, he was right. They were friends before anything else; even those niggling little feelings that continued to bother her from time to time came secondary to that. And, if they were friends, that meant she could trust him. On this occasion, Jane was reaching out to her, eager to help with her problems. Who was she to deny the hand he was offering her? She had never told him, though he may have figured it out anyway, but he had helped her so much since she had tried to re-assimilate herself back into the world after her family had been killed. After losing contact with her father, the one constant in her life, too. Though, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She owed him and yet again, he was offering to be the one to support her. Even so, she still felt the need to ensure the doors were firmly closed and the blinds shut. It wasn't so much a case of trying to stop people from overhearing; that was irrational. These office spaces, with their thin glass walls, offered no protection from that. However, she felt the need to imply that this conversation would remain private and that was the only thing she could do to ensure they wouldn't be unintentionally disturbed.  
  
"You done yet?" he asked, and she could tell that he was begrudgingly amused by her actions.  
  
"I don't know,” she admitted honestly. “You know I don't want to talk about this."  
  
"He wasn't a nice man? He scares you?” Jane guessed immediately, as he was prone to do so. “Is he the only fear that the formidable Teresa Lisbon has?"  
  
She rolled her eyes at his exaggeration, but tentatively nodded afterwards. Ultimately, Jane was right, in spite of it just being assumptions based on her behavior, especially when this specific subject ever reared its ugly head. Her father _did_ scare her. As a child, she had seen him do terrible things, all to lie and cheat his way to the top. He had treated her with contempt, and his violent tendencies often extended to her too, especially whenever she had attempted to disobey him. When she had started to demonstrate a natural ability for observation and mind games, he had begun to live vicariously through her. Although, that was never enough to stop the physical abuse either. Lisbon was only thirteen when she realized just how damaging her abilities were to her father. He became power-hungry and crazed. He was insanely jealous of the attention that she drew and treated her with contempt. He stole from her, forced her into situations she didn’t want to be in, and made her life a misery. It wasn't long after that when she started hatching plans to escape his clutches, but she never got that far away before he inevitably caught her up once again.  
  
In fact, the only time he had disappeared from her life for an extended time was the night when her family had died.  
  
Now, she couldn't help but wonder that, if he regained consciousness and if he recovered completely, if this was a sign that he was going to drag her back down again. He had given her a reprieve, a small taste of freedom, but now it was over. Jason Hamilton wanted her back again; she could never escape because she _was_ his.  
  
And yet, she knew she couldn't just throw him to the wolves. He was her father; the only flesh and blood she had left now. She couldn't completely cut him off - partially because he wouldn't let her - but mostly because she knew there was no going back if she even dared. Her religion, and the only connection she had with her deceased mother, dictated that she should respect her parents. Lisbon knew she had to take her religion seriously; after all, it was one of the few things that kept her sane. Still, it was difficult for her to follow that specific teaching, but on some level she managed to do so. After all, she had never met somebody quite as wily and quick thinking as her dad ever was. Jane was close, but Jason Hamilton was still on a completely different level in comparison. Then, there was the fact he had given her some sort of stability and upbringing after the death of her mom. He didn’t just abandon her, and put her up for adoption or fostering, like so many hapless fathers would have. She had to respect him for that, if nothing else.  
  
"Teresa, you've gotta give me something to work with," Jane said, dragging her back to reality and away from the darkest recesses of her mind. "As enjoyable as I find guessing games, I can't keep making these stabs in the dark. Do you really want me to have false conceptions of your upbringing or to know the truth?"  
  
Truth was a funny word. She knew that she _could_ tell him the truth about her childhood, but that still wouldn't be cold hard fact. It would be purely from her perspective of the situation. It would be completely biased. Had he asked her father for the same story, it would paint an entirely different picture. The cold hard truth was hard to fathom, even if you drew from the point of view of everybody in any given situation. Yet, Jane probably only cared about her view of it. They were her scars, her burden; they made her who she was. For Jane, her dad's opinion on the situation (and anybody else’s opinion, for that matter) was entirely irrelevant.  
  
She went to open her mouth, to tell him about her mother's sudden death, the carnival, how she had become a fake psychic based on her innate ability to read people. He needed to know why she behaved in the ways that she did, and what had forced her back in her shell. She wanted to explain why she put so much faith in the law, why morality was the only rulebook she cared to live by these days and why she felt the desperate need to prove that she was a good person now. However, before she had a chance to say another word, she was interrupted by a knock at the door.  
  
"Boss," said Cho, and he looked uncharacteristically stressed. "We caught one."  
  
“Okay,” Jane answered back, but Cho looked at him searchingly.  
  
Lisbon knew immediately that Cho was insinuating that he needed a private word with his boss and she took that moment to step to one side. Cho followed Jane into the corner of his office, behind his desk and beside the whiteboard which indicated the status of all their current cases. She watched their every move with eagle eyes. Both men spoke in a hushed breath; they knew she was there, but they didn’t particularly want her to overhear straightaway. They intended to share their news with her in a more careful, more controlled manner. However, Lisbon decided that they both should have known better anyway. They should have made sure she was out of the room and well out of earshot before they’d even dared to speak, however suspicious that made their actions appear. Lip-reading was a skill she had mastered well before the age of ten. She didn’t need the clarity of perfect hearing to know what was being said. After about half a minute, she stopped watching them and spent the time trying to compose herself appropriately for the ‘blow’ they were about to deal her.  
  
“Lisbon,” Jane said tentatively. “Before we go to this crime scene, I need a word in private.”  
  
She cocked her head to one side and smirked slightly. The look in Cho’s eye suggested he knew precisely what she was going to say next. But then, to be such a good interrogator, he needed to be a good study of people in general. The two skills naturally went hand in hand. Again, that was something she knew from very personal experience.  
  
“You think it’s related to Red John,” she replied bluntly and he nodded. At least he didn’t even bother to try pretending he was stunned at her ability to figure it out. “I’m fine, Jane, really. Let’s just go and get this over and done with.”  
  
“There is an important difference though…”  
  
“And?” she prompted.  
  
“It’s Red John in everything but name,” Jane explained, a little too cryptically for her liking.  
  
“What exactly do you mean by that?”  
  
She felt distinctly uncomfortable and had an inkling about what it was he meant anyway. This supposed Red John murder had occurred less than a week after his previous murder. The serial killer was getting cocky, killing far more frequently than he had ever done so in the past and nobody liked that. But, if he _was_ getting cocky, that meant he was more inclined to make mistakes. If he made mistakes, then it gave them half a chance to get closer to him and get him behind bars and in front of a court of law, where he belonged. Surely, that meant it was, on some level, a good thing? Except for the fact that another family was going to be submersed in the horror that she had been facing for nearly three years now. Being the relative of a victim of a notorious serial killer who was still at large was never a comfortable situation to be in.  
  
“No smiley face,” Cho eventually supplied on Jane’s behalf.  
  
“So… it might not actually be Red John.”  
  
“That’s what they need you for.”  
  
Jane sounded somber as he spoke, he sounded like he genuinely hated the concept of putting her in such a situation. He knew that it was a difficult situation for her to be in. Lisbon was already stressed, having dealt with the Red John murder in Jane’s old motel so recently. The thought of having to face another one so soon was difficult. But really, it was hard on the whole team. However, she understood that this was their job and it was something that she had to do. She had signed up to help him tackle the most complex homicide cases that the state of California could dare throw at them and gone into it aware of the connotations. Red John, of course, was one of that number. She never expected the job to be easy, physically, emotionally or on her mental capacity. And besides, there was nobody in the whole state who knew the Red John case as well as she did now, apart from the serial killer himself, of course. If anybody could get to the bottom of this supposed enigma, then it was her. As far as Lisbon was concerned, she had no choice if she truly wanted justice to be upheld.  
  
But she had a feeling that Jane would have tried to argue otherwise, of course.  
  
“Well what are we wasting time here for?” Lisbon snapped as she headed out of the office. “We can talk about this on the way to the crime scene.”  
  
Behind her, Jane and Cho exchanged furtive glances and she knew they were judging her apparent eagerness to get to the crime scene. But regardless of whether or not Red John was involved, the sooner they got there, the better. Forensic evidence only had a very short lifespan and if they didn’t get there in time to ensure its preservation, then it was going to be lost forever. Then, the case would inevitably be more difficult to close, and if (or when) they managed to make an arrest, it would be harder to get a conviction. Though confessions played an important part, more often than not, the physical evidence was required to pin it all together. Added to that, if it was Red John, then he was an incredibly meticulous killer. The fact that he had potentially murdered twice in such a short space of time suggested that this second one was unplanned and rushed. This meant that he’d be running scared and taking risks that they needed to capitalize on. Besides, they really couldn’t judge her for wanting to do a thorough and exemplary job, could they? After all, they surely wanted Red John behind bars (or dead) almost as much as she did?  
  
The journey to the crime scene was fraught with tension. Rigsby and Van Pelt muttered nervously to one another in the back seat of the van, and Lisbon could tell they were both equally unhappy about the latest developments. Cho had opted to take another vehicle, simply to provide them with the opportunity to split up when they got there, but also so he could escape this uncomfortable feeling. There was a wordless agreement in place that they were likely to be working late into the night; there always was when a case broke out after midday. Besides, some things just did not need vocalizing. Lisbon wrung her hands around one another as she sat beside an agitated Jane up front; she was trying desperately to rid herself of the nervous tension she herself was carrying. She knew half the reason why everyone else felt so unsure was because of her specifically; they didn't know how she was going to react next. However many times she told them that she didn't want anything but answers, they just didn't believe her. After all, a serial killer had brutally murdered her beloved husband and innocent daughter. Technically, she was a victim just as much as they were, and the same applied to anyone who had lost a friend or relative to murder. Therefore, statistics indicated that there was a high likelihood that she was really trying to seek out vengeance for their deaths in order to gain that closure she craved.  
  
And maybe on some level she did, she acknowledged. Lisbon knew for certain that she wouldn't be entirely happy or completely at peace with herself until she saw a judge sentence him to death row. She didn't want to kill him with her own bare hands; she just couldn’t face it or justify it with her conscience. An eye for an eye would never get the world anywhere. But, if the state of California dictated that Red John should die for the crimes that he'd committed, it was fine. Because then, the world as a whole was judging him for his considerable amount of crimes, everyone would be dictating what his punishment should be. Therefore, it wouldn't come down to her alone.  
  
It was quite a relief to get out of the car and walk up to the innocuous looking house. Van Pelt’s nervous theorizing was beginning to drive Lisbon mad, as were the continual concerned glances that Jane insisted upon sending in her direction instead of concentrating on the road. The place they had pulled up in front of looked like the ideal family home, perfect for living out the American dream. Or, at least it would have done so were it not for the fact that there was the yellow crime scene tape cordoning the building off to the general public and the door hanging off of its hinges.  
  
Lisbon took the lead as she headed towards the house. A few things caught her eye in the surrounding area, especially along the path to the house and she made a mental note to investigate them further as they got closer to the crime scene. The medical examiner was already on the scene and she recognized him immediately. Brett Partridge was a man who took a little too much joy in his job, but it was healthier for him to be interested in that than taking his love for the macabre too far. Jane had pointed it out to him on one of the first times they had encountered him after she had joined the Serious Crimes Unit, much to the discomfort of everybody present. Since then, he and Jane had shared a fraught relationship and Lisbon could hardly blame him for that. They were meant to be working together for the same purpose; there was no need for them to build up petty rivalries just for the sake of looking like the cleverest man in the room. It was unnecessary and rude.  
  
"Oh God, it's the crazy cop and his ragtag team again," Partridge mumbled under his breath and then he extended a hand to her. "Hi, Teresa, it's good to see you again."  
  
She ignored the insult and instead, shook his hand firmly. "Hi. What do we got then?"  
  
"Female victim, aged 25. No official ID yet, but thought to be Kayleigh Merrison, from Palm Springs. She's the girlfriend of the property owner and had been staying with him for the past week."  
  
"Right," said Lisbon and she ignored the scowls on Jane's face which she had caught out of the corner of her eye. "Anything else? I know there's a reported similarity to Red John."  
  
"Yes. It appears that the killer snuck up on her in her sleep, drugged and tied her up, took his sweet time killing her. All matches Red John's M.O. perfectly except..."  
  
"No smiley face."  
  
"Yeah," replied Partridge and she noted the disappointment in the tone of his voice.  
  
"And can we actually see the crime scene now?" Jane asked, clearing his voice to remind them that he, too, was present.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Again, the tone of Partridge's voice expressed his obvious disrespect for Jane, but she knew the feeling was entirely mutual. For once, Jane didn't rise to the bait though and Lisbon was relieved. They all just wanted to get this over and done with. As far as Lisbon was concerned, the sooner they actually had some sort of idea what they were facing, the better. Then, they would know where to go from here and that was the main thing.  
  
The blonde girl still had her hands and feet taped together with silver duct tape. Red John never sexually violated his victims, but that didn't stop him from making them think that it was a possibility prior to their deaths. He toyed with them, like a cat with a mouse. That was how he sought his thrills; that was how he exerted power over his victims.  
  
As Cho had told her back in Jane's office, and as Partridge had confirmed when they had arrived at the crime scene, the body was definitely sliced in much the same way as Red John ordinarily did so. Lisbon took a look at the blood spatters with considerable interest; there was something not quite right about them. The mattress was soaked with Kayleigh Merrison's blood; the arterial spray from the fatal neck wound decorated the wall just above her head.  Partridge was busy explaining to the others how this most likely came from a second victim, one whose body had already been removed. He was wrong; she could already tell he’d missed something.  
  
“No, there were three different people with wounds. Three different sets of blood,” Lisbon said quietly and they all turned to face her.  
  
“Oh really?” Partridge said skeptically. “Because…”  
  
She shook her head. “That’s the victim’s obviously. And so is that,” she said, indicating to the blood on the wall. “She never had a chance to leave the bed during her death. Her blood is all localized to that area. This is somebody else’s.” Lisbon moved to the doorframe and pointed to another small droplet of blood that had stained the carpet. “There’s a trail leading out of the room and outside. But that’s not the most interesting one…”  
  
“What is it Lisbon?” Jane asked.  
  
She beckoned them all back outside, and along the red brick pathway that led to the street. Hopping neatly over the yellow tape, she took them twenty yards away. It was well outside of the cordoned off area, and something she had noticed briefly before she had entered the house. Initially, she had cast it aside, believed it was road kill or something. However, after she had spotted the blood along the path earlier, she had known that it must be connected. Lisbon was annoyed that none of the forensics guys had taken note of this, but at least she had. This was the first big break in this case; she could feel it in her bones. Eventually, she stopped and pointed at a large pool of blood by her feet. Jane was frowning and Van Pelt let out an audible gasp.  
  
“This was from a third individual,” she explained.  
  
“What are you trying to say Lisbon? Is Red John involved?”  
  
“Yes,” she confirmed and she nodded decisively. “He was caught before he managed to make the smiley face. He attacked the individual who caught him, but didn’t kill him. Then, he attempted to flee the scene but then…”  
  
Lisbon trailed off. This was her hypothesis, but she didn’t like spelling out her hunches before she was absolutely certain of them. Just because it sounded right in her head, it didn’t mean it necessarily was. Besides, it didn’t explain where the person who interrupted Red John had gotten to. If he only had a minor injury, surely he should have been the one to call it in? But he (or she) hadn’t been; a neighbor had heard that the door had been kicked in, came to investigate and found Kayleigh Merrison murdered.  
  
“He was attacked in revenge, right here?” Jane asked and Lisbon nodded.  
  
“So we’re potentially looking for two individuals, both injured, one seriously and one with minor injuries. A witness and potentially, Red John himself.”  
  
“Yes, that’s about it,” she said, her voice quavering slightly.  
  
She didn’t like the feeling of any of this.


	13. Chapter 13

“Forensics report’s come in. You were right; including the victim, three different people were involved.”  
  
Jane wasn’t surprised in the slightest when Lisbon’s theory proved to be correct, and he could tell by the look on her face that neither was she. This case was proving to be a difficult one. They were already one week into it, and thus far, they hadn’t had any breaks. The Merrison family hadn’t been able to give them anything, nor had the girl’s colleagues. All they’d had to work with was the fact that they’d found Sophie’s boyfriend a little ‘creepy’ and that her father didn’t approve of their age difference. But it wasn’t enough to help them move it forwards. Worse, Jane could tell that Lisbon was getting more and more agitated by the case. He couldn’t blame her; she had a critically ill father in hospital and the killer of her family was on the loose. They had all thought that because he had killed twice within the space of a week that they would get a lead, but they hadn’t.  
  
Until now, of course.  
  
Lisbon looked up from her laptop and stared at him intently. Her eyes quickly fell onto the manila folder in his hands. She didn’t need telling what it contained, so wordlessly, Jane handed them straight over to her. He watched as she pored over the data, eagerly absorbing everything the report had to say. Jane kept hold of the other report in his hand tightly, waiting patiently for Lisbon to accept that what he had already told her was the truth.  
  
“We only have an ID for one of the unknown individuals, the one who left spots of blood as opposed to the one in receipt of the major injury,” Jane spoke when she finished reading. Then, he handed her the second file, the one containing the CBI’s background check on him. “His name is Alistair ‘Al’ Sawyer.”  
  
“He has priors?”  
  
“Yes, but mostly petty stuff. Burglary, jaywalking, taking drugs and the like. Has done jail time, but never for that long.”  
  
“He’s been in and out of the system,” Lisbon whispered as she ran a finger down the form.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Any sign of him?”  
  
“Van Pelt’s trying to track him down, but no joy yet,” Jane answered back.  
  
“Typical,” she said with a sigh.  
  
“Do you think he might be Red John?”  
  
He couldn’t stop himself from asking; the words just tumbled right out of his mouth. In reality, he doubted it anyway. Jane himself thought it was more likely that the man who’d received the more serious injury was Red John. The way he visualized it, Alistair Sawyer had come home to find his girlfriend murdered – or at least, taking her last dying breath – and Red John hadn’t even had the time to draw the grim smiley face on the wall. Red John jumped, caught Sawyer with his knife and fled the scene. Sawyer then went psycho, caught up with Red John and attacked him. When he believed the serial killer was dead, and he himself had become a murderer, he too fled.  
  
“Sawyer… did any of the family name him as the boyfriend? Did he own the property?” Lisbon asked but Jane couldn’t be entirely sure if it was rhetorical or not. He never could be with Lisbon; she did a lot of her musing out loud. That included the initial theory that three people had been involved. “The father,” she added suddenly. “Sawyer’s 42 and he disapproved of the seventeen year age gap.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jane agreed; he remembered Merrison’s father. He’d accused him of being rude when he’d pointed out that the wife had a gambling addiction that she was covering up very poorly. “So, you think he’s the only surviving witness to a Red John attack?”  
  
Lisbon nodded. “And his life is at risk. He’s a loose end and Red John hates loose ends. If we don’t find him soon, offer him protection, he will wind up dead before the week is out.”  
  
“Even though Red John himself is injured?” Jane questioned.  
  
“We don’t know how seriously,” Lisbon countered.  
  
“There was a lot of blood there.”  
  
“It doesn’t necessarily mean a thing. We need to find Sawyer. That’s got to be our first priority.”  
  
If any of his other subordinates spoke to him in such a tone, Jane would have reprimanded them. However, as it was Lisbon, he let it go. She was only speaking the truth and confirming what his next actions should be. It was simply a case that she was always a couple of steps ahead of him; he would come to the same conclusion in his own time. Like the case itself; he had felt quietly proud of himself when she had confirmed that she, too, had thought that Sawyer was related to the victim and not Red John himself. Jane firmly believed that Red John wasn’t somebody they already had on their systems; he was too careful and too meticulous for that. It was completely implausible that a man that clever would have any priors. He could cover up his crimes far too easily; it was second nature to him. Red John knew he was two steps ahead of them; that made him feel cleverer than them, and thus, Jane found it all the more galling. The blood they had found would be a link to the man when they got hold of him, but until then, it wasn’t much of a lead. Both sides would know that.  
  
But Lisbon was right. They needed to get hold of Sawyer before Red John did. It was a wonder that he hadn’t been killed at the crime scene and that Red John had fled instead. On a previous murder, that of Janet and Carter Peakes, he had broken M.O. because he had been interrupted. Why hadn’t the same applied in this case? What had stopped him from making this the third double murder to add to his name? These were questions that Jane doubted Lisbon even had the answer to. The forensics work had been a leap forwards, and now, they needed to move fast. Quickly, he bid farewell to her, left the two files for her to spend more time studying and headed to his office. There had to be something he could do to find Sawyer. He’d already put a BOLO out on his vehicle, tried to call his brother only to be directed to the voicemail services and contacted the Sac PD, but there had to be more. A man simply couldn’t disappear off the face of the planet. And besides, Sawyer wasn’t Red John. From the vague descriptions they’d been handed from the Merrison family, he just didn’t seem clever enough for that.  
  
Before heading back to his office, Jane swung by the kitchenette. He felt in dire need of a cup of tea; as far as he was concerned, it was the miracle drink that could cure all ails. And right now, Jane had the desperate need to clear his head. This case had been stressing them all out for far too long now and Lisbon was clearly suffering the most. He had been trying his hardest to find somewhere new to live; any tension they felt at work she took back home with her. Jane hated watching her in such a state; not only did she have to contend with her usual demons, but she was being forced to face this case and her critically ill father as well. There was nothing tangible that he could do to ease her mind and that made it all the worse. As he dipped his teabag in and out of the steaming hot water, he frowned. He still hadn't been able to get her to open up about her relationship with her father and it annoyed him. Jane couldn't help but think that if she just talked about it to him, then she would feel a lot better about it.  
  
Whenever she was around him, which was 95% of the time at present, she was solely fixated on the case. It wasn’t healthy, but he knew that he couldn’t judge her for it. Jane knew that this was her coping mechanism but it didn't stop it from irking him. He was her friend and she refused point blank to let him help her. Theoretically, he should have been able to respect her decision and support her with it, but he was Patrick Jane. He simply found it impossible to leave things alone.  
  
With a sigh, he shook his head, picked up the tea and headed straight back to his office. Before placing it on his desk, he took a sip of the drink and hummed appreciatively. It was long delayed; in reality, he should have fixed himself this drink a good hour ago, but had been too distracted to do so. At least it was already beginning to work its magic though.  
  
But it didn’t last for very long, however. The next thing that he did was pick up his cellphone, just to check what had been going on in the world. During the ten minutes that he had spent discussing the case with Lisbon and making tea, he had somehow already managed to amass at least thirty text messages and almost as many missed calls. Before looking, he hoped it was Van Pelt and Cho, but he doubted it. They wouldn’t have been quite so desperate to get hold of him, unless something had happened to one of the two specifically. Vaguely, he still hoped they'd gotten a lead on Sawyer and that this nightmare of being stuck in limbo was over, however. The moment he opened it up, his face fell. Instead of being his colleagues, with good news, it was two of his three brothers. Jane didn't need to be a psychic to know what this was about; Daniel and Tommy wanted to talk to him urgently about the youngest of the Jane brothers:  Edward.  
  
Since they had gotten themselves immersed in the Red John case, once again, Jane had entirely forgotten about his family’s dramas. The diagnosis had been sudden – only one month ago – but it had turned everything on its head. Jane had promised he would be there for him, no matter what, and Daniel and Tommy had patched up their differences. Edward’s illness had drawn them back together, but it could just as easily tear them apart once again. The Jane brothers, after all, had always had a fragile relationship. Edward’s appointment – one which he had promised to attend just three days previously - had completely escaped his mind in his haste and Jane kicked himself for it. He knew that his other brothers would be fuming; while Tommy had started his own family and Daniel had his business to contend with, Edward was the one who still needed him the most. Jane had promised that he would be there for him and he let him down. But he knew that he couldn’t help it; work was important and the Red John case especially so. It wasn’t even the fact that it would be his ‘career maker’ if he was able to close it, but to get the most dangerous scumbag in California off the streets. But his brothers wouldn’t understand; they never did. Being a law enforcement officer and fighting crime wasn’t a case of ‘justice’ for him, it was more ‘saving the world’, in his own way. Some people appreciated his methods, others just didn’t.  
  
In the second it took for him to make a decision, Tommy was already ringing him again. Swiftly, Jane scooped up the phone and answered the call. There was no point in delaying the inevitable and Jane knew that his younger siblings wouldn't leave him alone until he actually spoke to one of them. It all harked back to his past; being the one to essentially bring them up, they still saw him as the father figure. As hard as he tried to distance himself from them, to remind them that they were his brothers and not his children, it was never enough. They still clung onto him for constant reassurance and approval. Even when they turned on one another, as brothers were prone to do so on occasion, it was still left to him to pick up the pieces. Somehow, it seemed like all their other lives, and the other people that were now important to them, just weren’t enough to stop them from dragging him into it all.  
  
"Hey Tommy," Jane answered.  
  
"Patrick. About time too,” Tommy said with a sigh. “Where the hell are you?"  
  
"At work. Where else would I be."  
  
"Eddie needs you. Patrick, I don't want to say this over the phone..."  
  
"It's terminal, isn't it?" Jane guessed; it didn’t take much to figure it out.  
  
"Yes, damn it. How do you do that?"  
  
"Do what?" he asked.  
  
"Work out what I'm going to say before I say it. It's got worse since you got that consultant."  
  
"Please. I am a detective."  
  
"Whatever, it's irrelevant. You need to get your sorry ass over here. Eddie wants to see you. He needs all of us. Your excuses about work aren't going to cut it this time."  
  
“But Red John…”  
  
“Red John, Red John, Red John,” Tommy mimicked, his tone scathing. “I am so sick of hearing about Red John. Sometimes, I think you’re more obsessed with Red John than that Teresa Lisbon is.”  
  
“It’s for good reason! It’s my job to apprehend him.”  
  
Jane took a leaf out of Lisbon’s book and started to squeeze the fingers of his left hand into a fist and steadily release it. He repeated the motion several times, tried to steady his breathing and calm himself down. It wasn’t helping much, but it at least stopped him from taking his frustrations out on inanimate objects. As much as he would have liked to be at Edward’s side at this very moment, he had other priorities. It had been the case ever since he had been enrolled in the Academy. Police work sucked the life and soul out of everything else. Sure, there were the types who managed to get a balance between work and their private life, but those who were truly successful were few and far between. And besides, Jane took risks in his personal life just as much as he did in his career. He didn’t trust very easily, and didn’t like exposing his risks to other people. If he had a family, there was a chance that one day they would have that fateful knock on the door, revealing to the dear wife that their children would be fatherless. Having suffered at the fate of losing both parents early on, Jane had never been willing to put his own offspring through such a tragedy.  
  
“It’s the same as it has been since you moved out here,” Tommy growled; obviously they were both getting as angry as one another. “You’ve always put your career before the rest of us. Sure you step in and help if things get really bad, but it’s obvious you care more about the job than us!”  
  
Before he even had a chance to defend himself, Tommy slammed down the phone. Jane sighed; Tommy was the most tempestuous of his youngest siblings and found it the hardest to see the other side of the story. However much explaining he did, he would never understand why Jane’s role at the CBI was so important. Sometimes, Jane didn’t even know why he bothered trying to explain it to him. It was like trying to draw blood out of a stone; an impossibility.  
  
Naturally, he was heartbroken at his brother’s diagnosis and fully intended to spend as much time as possible with him before he passed away. It had all happened so suddenly, damn it. He hoped that Daniel would pass more information to him without finding an excuse to berate him for his decisions. Had they not been knee-deep in the Red John case and had they not discovered a lead of some sort, then maybe he would have considered taking some personal time in order to go and visit Edward. He had plenty of grounds to do so. As it was, Jane simply felt that he had no choice but to stay put. It wasn’t just Red John; somebody needed to keep an eye on Lisbon too. Not out of fear that she would do something outrageous –that was his job – but because sometimes, he wondered if she was just as sane as she pretended to be. After everything she’d been through, it would have been very understandable if she had a couple of screws loose in that magnificent brain of hers.  
  
xxx  
  
“We’ve found him,” a breathless Grace Van Pelt uttered, much to Lisbon’s surprise. “We’ve tracked down Al Sawyer. I’ll text you the address.”  
  
“Uh, thanks Grace,” Lisbon replied before the disengaged tone echoed out.  
  
Lisbon was surprised that Van Pelt had chosen to call her over Jane; she was the newest member of the team, and therefore, the most eager to please. By breaking rank and calling her over her boss, that was surely a sign of disrespect. But for now, Lisbon cast it aside, placed it into one of the small crevices of her memory palace to attend to at a later date. At this moment, she had important information to impart on her illustrious boss. They needed to get moving in order to capitalize on this lead. It was of no concern where the lead had come from, or the fact they received it in an unorthodox manner. Besides, Jane was the epitome of unorthodox; he’d understand.  
  
She hurried towards his office, but paused when she saw the expression on his face. He was staring at his cellphone as if it had caused him personal offense. Jane looked hurt, and scared; two emotions she generally didn’t associate with him. Sometimes, he had this ‘lost little boy’ expression, something which was down to the fact he had been orphaned and left to bring up his younger siblings aged sixteen.  It was hard for anybody to release themselves from the shackles of their past, especially when it was something as tragic as that. There had been a time when she had been forced to exploit such feelings, now she merely empathized. After all, what else was she meant to do?  
  
It took Jane to jerk his head upwards, notice her hovering at the door and beckon her in for Lisbon to come to her senses and remember what she was here to do. Slowly, she took a few steps forwards. Even though Van Pelt’s lead was very important, she couldn’t just completely disregard what had happened to Jane. For the sake of being a decent human being, she had to at least question what had just occurred and attempt to console him in the best way she could.  
  
“Bad news?” she eventually said once she was standing opposite him.  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” he answered back swiftly.  
  
“Jane…”  
  
At this point, she pulled the chair out and took a seat. She didn’t dare reach out to touch him, not even to bother measuring his pulse. It was too disrespectful for her to even think of such a thing. Instead, she just stared at him sadly with her piercing green eyes before she opened her mouth once more.  
  
“I’m your friend, you know,” she said softly and he looked away. “And that means you can trust me, right?”  
  
“Just family issues,” he admitted, albeit reluctantly and without too much effort on her part either. “It doesn’t matter, it’ll be fine.”  
  
“Of course it matters. Just a week ago you were pestering me about my father…”  
  
“We still need to have that talk.”  
  
“Later,” Lisbon asserted firmly, hoping that Jane would actually listen for a change. “You’re more important now.”  
  
“If you get to stall, then so do I,” he answered back sharply, and Lisbon was almost surprised. Only almost, because she knew that Jane was more than familiar with her games. “But you came in here for a reason, didn’t you?”  
  
She nodded and handed over her cellphone with the address where Al Sawyer was supposedly staying. Lisbon essentially parroted what Van Pelt had told her moments before; there was no point in her adding to it. In addition to his obvious upset over his family drama, there was another issue lurking in Jane’s eyes. It was hard to notice, but along with the relief that Van Pelt and Cho had gotten somewhere with their investigation, there was a hint of annoyance. She couldn’t blame him for that. In his shoes, she would have felt like Van Pelt had just blatantly undermined her. After all, she was merely a consultant and he was the boss.  
  
Even so, it wasn’t long until they were on the road. First, Jane called Rigsby , who was out investigating another lead to ensure he was en-route. Then, they had to make sure that they were fully prepped for whatever scenario they were due to face. While Jane negated the importance of a bulletproof vest, claimed that he was a trained individual and in no need of one, he still insisted that she wore one. She tried to argue the point; being the one handling the gun meant he was far more likely to be shot at than she was. Of course, ever since their ‘discussion’ in his office, he had turned that little more bull-headed and refused to see sense. Lisbon, meanwhile, felt safer with her protection; they were about to tread into unknown waters. Nobody could guarantee if Sawyer would be armed or not by the time they caught up with him.  
  
Once they were on their way to the location – much to Lisbon’s irritation, Jane had insisted they took his deathtrap of a car over one of the sturdy SUVs – she tried to press the conversation Jane had just stalled once again. It was a little hypocritical, but now that their roles were reversed, she felt incredibly uncomfortable and desperate for Jane to open up to her. He was as stubborn as she was though, and that always made things far more difficult. Eventually, Jane changed the conversation to one which was clearly bothering him.  
  
“Why did Van Pelt tell you about the lead and not me?”  
  
“You were busy on the phone,” Lisbon answered with a shrug.  
  
“But she didn’t say that to you,” he answered back.  
  
“No,” she conceded.  
  
Van Pelt had made it obvious that she had chosen to call Lisbon without giving a second thought to her boss. That was why Lisbon had found the whole situation disconcerting.  
  
“I’ve spent a lot of time talking to her lately, getting to know her.”  
  
“And I haven’t?”  
  
“You’re not as exposed to the rest of the team as I am – I share the bullpen with them, they know I can read them all like open books. You’re in your office; you don’t have a chance to participate in the conversations…”  
  
“Then there’s the respect issue.”  
  
“Van Pelt respects you; they all do.”  
  
“Really?” Jane replied skeptically.  
  
The conversation wasn’t allowed to get any further. Sawyer hadn’t strayed all that far from the initial crime scene or the CBI headquarters, which made their job a hell of a lot easier. Often, they found themselves having to endure long cross-state journeys just to visit a crime scene for an hour or so. The local ones always felt more comfortable to deal with because they involved familiar surroundings. The vast majority of people took that kind of thing for granted, but not Lisbon. After years on the carnival circuit as a kid, she found that it was something to treasure.  
  
It was impossible to miss the fact that the door had quite obviously been kicked in. Immediately, Jane’s hand flew to his holster and he drew his weapon. He encouraged Lisbon to hang back, something which she was more than happy to do in the given circumstances. She watched as Jane slowly crept forwards and disappeared into the house. Then, she made her way to the door and peeked inside. It was dank and gloomy, just like the outside had been. This wasn’t a pleasant place to make a home, but a petty criminal who had potentially been involved in a major crime had to make do with whatever life offered him.  
  
Then, Lisbon heard the gunshots and the screaming. She flinched at each crack of a barrel, but she didn’t run out of fear. If anything, she was more intrigued. Lisbon could feel her pulse rate quicken, her heart rate increase as her body autonomously primed itself for flight or fight mode. This was one of the worst aspects of the job, when fear took over, not necessarily for herself, but for others. She strained to hear each voice; she could hear the shocked scream of Rigsby, an argument between Jane and Cho and on top of that, Van Pelt calling that she had found a body in a very unsteady tone. Once she had come to the conclusion that everyone present was familiar and therefore wouldn’t be prone to attacking her, she made her way inside. Lisbon made it entirely clear to the agents that it was only her approaching; the last thing she wanted was for the clearly agitated cops to start shooting at her before they realized what they were truly doing.  
  
It didn’t take long for her to dissect what had happened. It was simply a case of miscommunication. The others had failed to inform them that they had taken the initiative to investigate the house thoroughly when they saw that the security had been compromised. When Jane had entered, the fast-thinking side of everyone’s brains took over and the shots were fired. It was a small mercy that nobody had been hurt or killed in this clear case of team mismanagement. And she could imagine the headlines: _‘CBI Agents Shoot Each Other’_ would be terrible PR for the agency, not that that was particularly important at this specific moment in time. Still, Lisbon couldn’t help but vaguely wonder if she would have been able to deal with the situation more effectively, but it was irrelevant; she wasn’t a team leader and never would be.  
  
Before she even dared to look at the dead body, she had some choice words she wanted to share with Jane. The shooting had left her in fear of his life; she hadn’t known initially who had fired the shots. Part of her was terrified of losing him because already, he was a very important part of her life. She knew that they gave each other something to cling onto in times of trouble. So, once Cho and Rigsby had disappeared into the room containing the dead body, against her own volition, Lisbon found herself pinning Jane to a wall and staring him down angrily.  
  
“What the hell were you thinking?” she hissed as adrenalin took over. “You could have been hurt or killed. You’re an unmitigated disaster, Patrick Jane.”  
  
“You’re one to talk,” he replied, just as angrily as she was.  
  
“God only knows how the hell you’ve managed to keep your job for so long. The vast majority of bosses would have gotten rid of you years ago for the trouble you cause.”  
  
Still shaking ever so slightly, she let go of him, sent him one more scathing look then stalked off in the same direction as Rigsby and Cho. Maybe later she would consider apologizing to him for the harsh words, but for now, she wanted to get on with her job. And preferably, calm herself down and get over the shock too.


	14. Chapter 14

The body was swinging gently from the lampshade. Suicide by hanging was never a pleasant way to go, especially if the fall didn’t sever the spinal cord cleanly and effectively. Lisbon knew there was a high potential for the victim to flail and suffer for hours before death. She glanced over her shoulder when Jane walked in and he was a whiter shade of pale. He obviously wasn’t very happy at all. Initially, Lisbon believed that it was because she had snapped at him without giving him a chance to defend himself, but then she realized it was more than that. He was having flashbacks of the past; this was probably due to the fact his father had killed himself in the same manner. Added to whatever family shock he had just had to endure – probably a brother’s serious illness or injury if she was going to guess – things had suddenly gotten that little bit more difficult for him.  
  
Just because she had a comatose father in hospital, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t empathize with his predicament. Life’s trials and how you responded to them were what made you human.  
  
“Was there a note?” Jane eventually asked, his voice sounding a little more strangulated than usual.  
  
Lisbon nodded and handed it to him. Before picking it up she, naturally, had ensured she was wearing latex gloves. Although it didn’t look like anything more than a comparatively simple suicide, they could never be sure. It was always far better to apply caution than rush in all headstrong. That was why the team was currently rattled; they had been seconds away from disaster. If they had stopped to truly think about what was happening, there would have been no risk. But it was too late now and they had a job to do.  
  
“I’m sorry. That’s all?”  
  
“Yeah,” Lisbon answered and she sounded deflated. “The question is, what for? For not protecting his girlfriend? For attacking the man we presume to be Red John? Or for letting down Red John? Did he know that he was going to be killed by the serial killer anyway, give up and just kill himself?”  
  
Automatically, she started pacing around the body, occasionally glancing back at him, but for the most part trying to avoid looking at the deceased Alistair Sawyer at all. There were a lot of scrambled thoughts in her mind and she needed to assess what was important and what was not. Beyond the questions she had randomly thrown out to the team, there was more to consider. What was important about this location and why had Sawyer killed himself here, specifically? Why hadn’t he done it at home, with his girlfriend? Why hadn’t he given himself up to the authorities? He could have been cleared for self-defense. If he had, then he would have provided them with pivotal information about Red John. They could have closed the case with what he’d known. Like Carter Peakes before him, he had been an eye witness to a Red John murder. Unlike Peakes, he had gotten away comparatively unscathed which opened up a whole load more questions.  
  
But most of all, Lisbon could feel that she was getting increasingly frustrated. For the second time in the space of a single month, a Red John lead had slipped through their fingers.  
  
Eventually, the others disappeared to investigate the building more thoroughly. They had to know exactly what was going on here before they could move on. Even then, the matter wouldn’t be closed. An autopsy report on the body would still have to go ahead, to check conclusively, that it was a suicide and not a murder disguised as a suicide. A lot of novice killers seemed to think if they did that, then they would be far more likely to get away with murder. Of course, it meant they had to spend a little longer picking away at a crime scene to get to the truth, but that didn’t change the fact that they usually weren’t outwitted by desperate souls trying to retain their image.  
  
But Red John wasn’t any old killer. He had a strong identity and was keen to claim any murder he carried out as his own. While he may have had a hand in this suicide – influencing Sawyer’s decision to kill himself, for example – it was highly unlikely he actually tightened the noose around the man’s neck, and then kicked away the stool to let him hang. It was just too far away from his usual MO for them to even really consider that option. In reality, it seemed far more likely that the team were currently checking for something that _wasn’t_ there, just to ensure that their initial suspicions were correct. Or, that was what Lisbon’s instincts told her at least. This just felt like a suicide; finding out why (as opposed to her theories) was more the issue at hand now.  
  
That was half the reason Lisbon found herself being drawn to Jane. Focusing on the body and the questions it posed had cleared her mind. Although there had been some meaning in the callous words she had thrown at Jane, she knew she had stepped over the mark. She had to apologize and if she didn’t do it soon, she knew that it would become toxic for her. This wasn’t the first time she had let her temper get the better of her and she knew it wouldn’t be the last either. Sometimes, she wondered if that was half the reason Red John had decided to toy with her, and if that fateful TV interview had merely been the thing that had pushed him over the edge. Of course, that would have meant that he had been keeping an eye on her for a considerable amount of time. Still, even though she shuddered at the very thought of having Red John tracking her every move, she wouldn’t have put it past him.  
  
“Jane,” she called out, her voice faltering slightly at the last minute. “Can I have a word?”  
  
He glanced up from what he was doing and then nodded slightly. Immediately, Lisbon dragged him away from the house and outside. The rest of the team were too engrossed in the task in hand to notice their absence, but Lisbon still didn’t want to run the risk of having them listen in. They may have known – and heard – her outburst earlier, but that didn’t mean they had to hear the apology too.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she started slowly, building confidence. “For what I said earlier. It was wrong of me to judge you in such a way.”  
  
“It’s forgotten,” Jane answered abruptly, but Lisbon sincerely doubted that it was. She was still fretting that this could easily become a sticking block between the two of them and that was the last thing either of them needed at this moment in time. After all, they were both struggling with their family ties, and neither of them was willing to accept help. They still needed to know they could rely on each other, even if they couldn’t accept the help that was offered. Turning on Jane had been completely unacceptable of her.  
  
“I don’t believe you,” she answered back.  
  
“Lisbon, I understand you are under a lot of stress at the moment. So am I. In these situations, it’s more likely that people will get angry. It’s fine, really.”  
  
She took a step back, stunned. Most of the time, Jane was reckless, amusing, charismatic, charming and dangerous. He took risks in his career and usually, they paid off. This somber and serious Jane wasn’t exactly new to her, but it wasn’t a side she saw very often. In a way, it was a relief that he was behaving in this way, but part of her still couldn’t help but be stunned at just how well he was taking her obvious disrespect. Still, she was grateful that he had a clear head on and was able to see the bigger picture.  
  
“Thank you,” she murmured quietly, and she genuinely meant it.  
  
At that moment, Wayne Rigsby came hurrying out of the house, keen to speak to the both of them. Lisbon was pleased with his fortuitous timing; their conversation had come to its natural conclusion and it was about time they started to focus on the case now anyway. From the look on his face, whatever he’d found, it was nothing good. Lisbon shoved her hands in her pockets and closed the distance between them. The sooner this was over and done with, the better it would be for all of them. At least then, Jane would be able to get back to dealing with his family… and she could start contending with her father again.  
  
“Lisbon, Jane, you have to come see this,” he eventually uttered, his face pale.  
  
Wordlessly, they followed Jane inside and down into a dank and dingy cellar. Already, a familiar, yet unpleasant smell wafted up to them and Lisbon had a feeling that she didn’t need any light source to be able to tell what was down there. But, it wasn’t too much of a surprise to find this in the building and the cellar was as unkempt as the rest of the insides of the house. While the outside had been clearly well attended to, the rest of the house was in a state of disrepair. Once they took to the steps, Rigsby started to answer their unasked questions: the house had no registered owners, neighbors presumed that somebody owned it because it appeared so well cared for from the outside. Then, he tentatively pulled at the light switch and the single bulb crackled to life, illuminating the space.  
  
On the floor, there were anywhere between twenty and fifty bodies, all in different states of decomposition. The walls were stained with blood and in the center of the wall directly opposite them was an all too familiar calling card. This was Red John’s murder house. Presumably, it was also the place where he stashed any bodies that he didn’t want people to know about. Lisbon dreaded to imagine how many missing persons and/or bodies from cold cases lurked beneath them. She also knew it was going to take them months to dissect all of this. Suddenly, she felt as though her knees were about to give way at the sheer horror of the situation, now that she could see it clearly. Thankfully, both Rigsby and Jane managed to catch her before she did collapse, and then, the three of them returned upstairs.  
  
“Well,” she said with a weak tone of voice. “It still doesn’t answer whether or not this is murder or suicide.”  
  
“But your hunch is?”  
  
It was Cho, surprisingly, who asked the question. He looked pale too, and presumably, Van Pelt was somewhere out in the yard, spewing her guts up after having witnessed the sight. That was good, in a sick sort of way. It meant they all knew what they had to contend with.  
  
“Suicide,” she answered bluntly. “I think he worked for Red John, didn’t realize he’d attacked his lord and master and this was his way of repenting his sins.”  
  
“Strange sort of morality,” Cho chimed in when she finished.  
  
“Killers and their kin don’t _have_ a sense of morality,” Jane stated darkly.  
  
When forensics and tech guys started to swarm the place, and Jane had had a chat to the coroner, they were back in his car and swiftly heading back to the headquarters. His bad mood had obviously worsened, but the same could have applied to any one of them. The bust had gone wrong, they hadn’t gotten Sawyer alive, and instead had a currently unknown amount of dead bodies to handle. As a consequence, not only did that mean more hard work instead of getting closer to closing a notoriously difficult case, it meant that Jane also had more paperwork to do. Lisbon honestly believed he loathed paperwork more than anything else in the world. Worse still, it also meant that he wouldn’t have an opportunity to slip away to visit his family. She knew that had to be hard on him.  
  
It was also a reason why she hadn’t chosen to add insult to injury, to ask him if she could leave early so she could head on to the hospital to visit her father. It wasn’t that she necessarily wanted to see him, per se, but she did want an update on his current situation, she wanted to know if there had been any developments – good or bad - to his current health status. That, and as she had to remind herself several times every hour, he was her family. She owed it to him to look out for her. As terrible a father as he had been on occasion, there were sparse moments when she had genuinely felt loved by him. He had been the one constant throughout her childhood and adult life, at least until the worst possible thing that could have happened to her had happened. Then, he had mysteriously disappeared until a week ago. At approximately the same time as this Red John case had started. As hard as she tried not to find the circumstances suspicious, the more she couldn’t help but do so.  
  
Jane was sprawled out on his couch with a laptop perched somewhat precariously on his lap. He’d graciously allowed her to use his desktop computer for her own research. Theoretically, she could have gone to her own desk in the bullpen to work; the CBI had somehow managed to find money in their strapped resources to allow her a laptop of her own to use. However, she had a feeling that Jane preferred it when she chose to spend time in his office over with the others in the bullpen. And she would have been lying if she didn’t admit to quite liking it, too. After all, it meant they could keep an eye on one another, and it made her feel a little less alone in the world.  
  
In spite of the façade, Lisbon knew that neither of them was working particularly hard. Not because there wasn’t any work to do – slowly but surely more information was trickling through from various sources about each of the dead bodies found in that godforsaken cellar – but because neither of them could concentrate. More than once, Lisbon had spotted Jane staring forlornly at her, only for him to look away, clearly embarrassed when she caught his gaze. Eventually, she just gave up pretending to be doing anything constructive, got up and closed the distance between them. Initially, she planned to sit on the metal chair opposite him, but he swung his legs off that leather couch of his and patted by his side encouragingly. Tentatively, she took a seat, but not directly beside him. Instead, she sat close to one of the arms, but he patted by his side again. Only then did she close the distance between them completely.  
  
“You know, in the feline species, sitting close to you is a way of showing affection, namely love,” Lisbon stated lightly, trying desperately to keep the tone quiet and easy.  
  
“I did, actually,” Jane answered back with a crafty grin. “But I’m surprised that _you_ knew it. I never took you as being a cat lover, Teresa.”  
  
“I appreciate their charms, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I’d want to live with one.”  
  
“Yes. You appreciate the loyalty of a dog after all those years of being unable to trust anyone. The unwavering companionship of a canine means you know it’ll always be there for you.”  
  
“Nothing lasts forever,” she whispered quietly, before speaking more loudly, “besides, the job is even less conducive to dog ownership than cats.”  
  
Jane fell silent as he considered her statement. Lisbon stood by it, of course. Her favorite part of carnival life had always been the animals, and especially the elephants. If she had ever missed anything about it at all, it had been the menagerie. If she was ever in need of a moment’s solitude, she always snuck away to join them. It made her feel more at peace in the world. Later, when her beautiful daughter had asked for a dog, Lisbon would have given her one in a heartbeat. Or at least, let Eva have one in name only; she was fully aware that she would have been the one to land up looking after the furry critter. Unfortunately, her husband had been allergic to animal dander and that had quickly nixed that idea.  
  
On that train of thought, Lisbon found herself smiling wistfully at the memories. She remembered spending hours on end trying to explain to young Eva just why she couldn’t have a dog, or even a cat. They were beginning to work on a compromise of a hamster shortly before she died. That thought quickly extinguished all the pleasant ones. Lisbon had been planning to buy her one for her birthday. It had only been two weeks away the day she was murdered. Eva never got her fluffy little pet, one which she would no doubt have loved to the ends of the earth. Instead, she had died in one of the most painful ways possible. Red John hadn’t been kind to her, even though she had only been five. Lisbon could remember being told how her daughter had died, not from a fatal wound, but from slowly bleeding to death.  
  
That had been the moment that had truly tipped her over the edge.  
  
“Lisbon,” Jane said, breaking through the horror and essentially, saving her from traveling down a path she had trodden down far too many times. “You don’t really want to be here, do you?”  
  
“I do,” she claimed quickly.  
  
She knew that she wasn’t being all that convincing in her retort; she could feel it in her heart. However, it felt like a lifetime ago since she had last had to wear that mask, to lie and pretend about everything she truly was. In theory, it should have been like riding a bicycle, but Lisbon had never even bothered to fully cover up all her tells, even back in the day. As far as she had been concerned, that little bit of honesty had given people reason to trust her as opposed to doubting her authenticity. And besides, within the CBI, she believed that if she wasn’t fully honest with all of her colleagues, then it could cause issues much like the ones that had occurred earlier for Jane. Added to that, she always felt safe and secure around them. Instinctively, Lisbon knew that she could trust each and every one of the Serious Crimes Unit, no matter what. That even extended to both Van Pelt – who Jane still considered as being very green behind the ears – and Jane himself.  
  
“Please, Lisbon. I can tell. You want to go to the hospital to visit your father.”  
  
“Maybe,” she answered back, not willing to admit that he was right just yet. “But even if I do, I can do it after work.”  
  
“That won’t stop you from fretting now, nor will it stop you from being so distracted,” he answered back. “This is Red John. You’re usually completely focused on this case, but instead, you can’t sit still. Even I know that means you want to be elsewhere.”  
  
“But you can’t visit your brothers and you’re going through a family emergency too; it’s not fair.”  
  
Jane didn’t question how she knew even that much about his current dilemma. But then, he didn’t need to. He knew that she could cold read people with ease, and once she had gotten to know people, reading their body language got even easier. Generally, she tried to avoid applying those techniques to the people she worked closely with as she believed it was rude, but sometimes it was something that she simply couldn’t switch off.  
  
“Don’t act like a martyr on my account,” Jane spoke, keeping his anger in check.  
  
“I’m not!”  
  
“Yes, you are. And besides, I am your boss,” he reminded her with an uncharacteristic lofty air of authority. “And I say you should go visit your father immediately.”  
  
“What if I don’t agree?” Lisbon questioned, challenging said authority.  
  
“Do you really want a reprimand for something like this?”  
  
“No,” she replied softly.  
  
“Good,” he said, clearly satisfied with what he’d done. “Now go see him, don’t worry about me. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”  
  
“Yes, boss,” she grumbled.  
  
She drove to the hospital with the windows open and the radio firmly switched off. Lisbon couldn’t be dealing with any distractions, especially as she was finding it difficult enough to concentrate on the road as it was. Her thoughts kept coming back to a single issue: she still hadn’t been informed of precisely where her father had been found. She knew what injuries he’d endured, why he had been placed under a week-long medicinal coma and what the likelihood of his full recovery was going to be. Lisbon had also been told that he had been found in the middle of a street, having been hit in a hit-and-run car accident. But – he had received a head injury just prior to the accident and the cause of it was unknown. In truth, the doctors didn’t even seem to care so long as they were capable of patching him up and ensuring he had a decent quality of life from now on.  
  
Once she arrived at the hospital, Lisbon felt like she couldn’t decide whether or not she was relieved to be there, anxious, both, or something else entirely. This was the problem with having such mixed emotions when it came to her father; she just couldn’t think straight. And if she couldn’t think straight on this specific subject, then how was she to expect other people to be able to assist her in any way that they possibly could? But it was irrelevant, really. As she stepped out of the car, she smoothed down her pants and work jacket and headed straight into the building with what she hoped was an air of cool confidence.  
  
It didn’t take her long to get to the intensive care ward where her father was currently installed. Nor did it take her too long to find his doctor. The latter surprised her; like their line of work, doctors were notoriously busy, so she was grateful for the fact that he had the opportunity to stop and have a chat with her. Much of the conversation went as she expected; they were currently trying to bring him out of the coma, if he was to wake, then they anticipated that he would be able to make a full recovery, provided that her father would be willing to put the work in to get there. However, it wasn’t until the doctor confirmed that her father had been discovered some thirty miles away from where Kayleigh Merrison’s body had been discovered that the knot in her stomach finally decided to loosen. There was a slight time discrepancy though, but Lisbon decided to ignore it. It felt like it changed the likelihood of his involvement from ‘possible’ to ‘improbable’. And for now, that was going to have to be enough for her.  
  
“Would you like to see him again?”  
  
“Will I be in the way?” she asked. It was a valid question considering the precarious situation her father was in. Slipping in and out of a comatose state was never easy.  
  
“We’re not anticipating any change in his current state yet, Ms. Lisbon,” the doctor assured her quickly. “And if we do need you to leave for any reason, we will not hesitate to ask.”  
  
“Okay, then.”  
  
The doctor led her back to the ward and to her father’s bedside. She had only been here twice since his discovery. Once on the day they had called her, requesting identification and then later, during a quiet spell in the Red John case. She was skeptical about anyone comatose hearing anything that people said, and besides, she honestly didn’t know if she even had anything to say to Mr. Jason Hamilton. Any questions she had, he wouldn’t have been capable of answering. Anything she wanted to tell him in either spite or anger, she didn’t have the heart to when he was in such a state. And she most certainly didn’t have any kind, caring words for him. Just because he was her flesh and blood, it didn’t mean she automatically had to play the loving daughter role. As far as she was concerned, being here was enough to show that she cared for him on some level.  
  
She sat by his bedside for an hour, and then, just as she was considering leaving, the alarm bells started to buzz. Lisbon didn’t even need to be asked to move out of the way, she automatically did so. Even so, she remained within earshot, trying to catch what was being said. Had she been in any fit state to do so, she might have laughed at just how similar a situation she had found herself in twice within the space of twelve hours. The news sounded surprisingly optimistic and already, Lisbon felt her heart leap up into her throat. It felt like a lifetime, but it was only half an hour later when one of the nurses beckoned her forwards.  
  
“He’s not out of the woods yet,” she explained with the patience that only a nurse could have. “But he’s no longer in a comatose state. He’s sleeping. Did you want to see?”  
  
Again, she nodded and found herself clutching at the cross pendant that hung around her neck. Lisbon didn’t care that her father wouldn’t have approved of the number of prayers that had slipped through her lips for him in the past thirty minutes. In all honesty, they had been more for her sake than his anyway.  
  
Tentatively, she reached forwards and allowed her fingers to run across his lower arms. Immediately, she leapt back at the moment his eyes sprang open. He tried to mouth something, but the words didn’t come out.  
  
But she knew what it was anyway: he was trying to say her name.


	15. Chapter 15

In two months, it felt like everything had changed, but at the same time, nothing much had happened at all. While Lisbon’s father’s health improved dramatically, she knew that Jane’s brother’s health was deteriorating. He didn’t implicitly speak to her about it, but she could tell by his actions and words. But then, she couldn’t judge him for it; she didn’t consult him about her father’s progress either. It was just one of those things; for now they had common suffering, but found themselves being pulled in opposite directions. If Lisbon could have changed anything about the situation, she would have. But for now, all she could do was pray for her father, Jane and the rest of Jane’s family.  
  
Somehow, Jane had found the time to get new lodgings too. He had taken up a modest apartment not too far from her townhouse. Sometimes, they shared lifts to work, but more often, they just met up there. Lisbon enjoyed having the space back to herself once again, but she also found that she was missing him dreadfully. There had been something pleasant about having somebody to come home with each and every day. They had both known how to make sure they had space from each other; Jane had often taken to lingering in the CBI’s attic space, presuming that nobody else knew it was there. Of course, that was a lie, but Lisbon respected him enough for the most part to avoid going up there herself. Only when he fell into a particularly depressive state about what was happening to his family did she dare go up there and drag him back down to the land of the living. She knew better than most that brooding about the inevitable and the unchangeable only made things worse in the long run.  
  
However, Jane's predicament wasn't currently at the forefront of her mind. It seemed that her spare bedroom wasn't going to remain empty for too long. Her father had applied himself diligently to everything the doctor had asked him to do. That had surprised Lisbon; usually whenever people of power told him to do something, he generally behaved contrarily. She was entirely grateful that he had realized that everything they did for him was for the greater good. If nothing else, it meant that his life would be a lot easier instead of him finding himself entirely reliant on other people – and in chronic pain - for the rest of it. But now, he was ready to be discharged, but he still needed supervision.  And thus, that was where she came in.  
  
Without having to pay, she was literally the only person who he had left. She couldn’t turn him away in his hour of need; it would be too unchristian for her. Besides, childhood conditioning constantly reminded her that he had played a pivotal role in her life. He’d been her father, her mentor, her manager, her chaperone and many other (and occasionally, less pleasant) things besides. The recent years he’d been absent hadn’t disappeared instantly; she could still feel the pain she had suffered during them in her every movement and motion. However, when it came to her personal relationship with her dear old dad, it had. And that was why she was in her spare room, fussing over just how appropriate it was for him now. She was worrying that it wouldn’t live up to his standards. At least he hadn’t broken either of his legs during his accident; that would have made hosting him… difficult. Not that he wouldn’t be difficult anyway, mind. Lisbon’s relationship with her dad had never been an easy one. And at least his return was merely a temporary one.  
  
A small voice in the back of her mind immediately argued that point. Maybe he would stick around and maybe he would decide to live with her again permanently. Maybe, Mr. Jason Hamilton would take one look at his daughter and decide that _she_ still needed him, possibly even more than she had ever done so in the first place. That was something that she most certainly wouldn’t have put past him. Immediately, her heart sank. If only one good thing had come out of the death of her family, it was that she had simultaneously been able to take control of her life. Lisbon enjoyed being free to decide where she lived, with whom she socialized, how she used her skills, what job she specialized in and many more things besides. As much as she had loved her husband, even he had been chosen by her father to a certain extent. It had just been fortuitous for Lisbon that he hadn’t been as ‘perfect’ for her in Mr. Hamilton’s eyes as he’d first appeared at face value.  
  
After all, the grandson of carnival royalty had hated the circuit just as much as she had. Until the moment they had fled in the dead of the night, he had acted like the model carnie brat. He fleeced marks out of their money seemingly without a second thought, charmed the women, entertained the babies, performed his ‘magic’ tricks and worked hard with the animals. Jason Hamilton liked and respected him as a kid, and liked the familial connections even more. After all, the Hamiltons weren’t naturally born carnie folk. It had been her father’s tenacity, alongside her own skills, that had allowed them to tag along and learn a few of their deepest secrets. Behind the scenes, however, she and Andrew stole moments together, sharing illicit kisses and hatching outlandish plans to leave. Lisbon had been the only one to see that her future husband hated their lifestyle, and she’d liked it that way. It had broken her heart when her father had outfoxed them and joined them back in the civilian world.  
  
But Andrew Lisbon was gone, even if she still clung onto his surname. Her father was not. And, as a consequence, he was her priority now. Jane had even kindly graced her with the day off to prepare, and to pick him up too. Even if the Serious Crimes Unit were required for a case, she wouldn’t be called for assistance unless it was absolutely necessary, meaning, Red John. Despite how he appeared at face value, Lisbon knew that she was blessed with a genuinely understanding boss who was happy to give any of his subordinates time off whenever they needed it the most. In reality, she knew she couldn’t have been luckier in that respect. With the CBI, she had really fallen on her feet and unbeknownst to Jane and his team, they had helped put her back together again.  She hadn’t been in the right mindset when she had initially joined them, but now, she was fine. One day, when her fears of stigmatizing felt irrelevant, she would thank them for all that they had done. For now, she was happier to keep her past private. Barring a few necessary details to explain just how she had picked up her skills, she liked to keep her relationship with her colleagues entirely professional. It was just easier for everyone concerned, that way.  
  
By the time she arrived at the hospital, Lisbon found that she was getting increasingly agitated. She had thought she had mentally prepared for this moment, but clearly, she was wrong. Every single time she had visited her father here, he had found one reason or another to judge her. If it wasn’t her job, then it was her clothes, and if it wasn’t that it was her diet, her exercise regime, her friends (or lack thereof), or the fact that she now associated on regular basis with the _police_. Although Jason Hamilton had never directly crossed the path of law enforcement, he had inherently picked up the stigma and hatred of the law from the circuit. All carnies hated police officers, lawyers, DAs and everyone in between. It was easily explained: if not illegal, their work was at the very least morally dubious. She was dreading days, weeks, months, however long he stayed, of him pulling her lifestyle to shreds. Already it felt like it was inevitable that he would try and take control over her from the moment he stepped out of the hospital and into her SUV.  
  
But it was too late now. She had made a promise and she was going to keep it.  
  
Feigning a cheerful smile, Lisbon approached his doctor and, as she had several months earlier, shook his hand with a firm grip. He then led her to his office where he updated her on the requirements of her father after he’d been discharged. Much of it was pretty rudimentary; the only sticking point she could see was the possibility of trying to persuade him that the routine check-ups he’d been scheduled for were actually necessary. The physiotherapy ones too, for that matter; after all, he’d probably regard a physiotherapist on much the same level as he would a doctor. But he was going to go, because he was going to make a full recovery and he was going to vacate her spare bedroom as soon as he did so. All that was left to do was hope that her resolve wouldn’t crumble when they actually got into the routine of him living with her once again.  
  
“I’ve been waiting hours,” Jason grumbled the moment that she approached. “And this is what is supposed to be my loving daughter. My only flesh and blood, all I have left in the world-“  
  
“Dad,” Lisbon cut in and she glared at him. She’d already had enough of his lies and hyperbole. Besides, she could feel the doctor glancing between the pair of them skeptically. They both knew she wasn’t late in the slightest; if anything, she was a little early. “I promised I would be here at 1pm. It’s 11.28am.”  
  
“If I’d had my own way, I would have left five weeks ago.”  
  
“You were in no fit state to leave then.”  
  
“And your opinion on that, Dr. Whitson?” he asked, ignoring her and looking straight at his doctor. It was probably the first time she had ever seen him actually ask a doctor for his opinion.  
  
“I agree with your daughter,” Dr. Whitson answered smoothly and her father’s mouth fell agape in disgust. “But I’m very happy to see you’re looking much better.”  
  
“Hmph.”  
  
“Come on,” Lisbon said soothingly. “It hasn’t been that bad, they’ve looked after you. Hell, this man even saved your life. You owe them something.”  
  
“Just doing my job, ma’am,” the doctor answered, clearly embarrassed by the praise. “You must feel the same in your line of work.”  
  
“As I already told you, I don’t close cases; I merely assist.”  
  
“Yet, you were also capable of convincing my wife to stop smoking. Something I am infinitely grateful for.”  
  
Lisbon could feel herself blushing slightly at the praise. It was nothing, really, and she wouldn’t have even done it if her dad hadn’t mentioned she had skills in hypnosis to the doctor. It wasn’t that she minded doing such work, but, as far as she was concerned, it was too linked to her past as a charlatan, a fraud, a fake psychic. She had alienated herself as much as feasibly possible from her background and she really wanted it to stay that way. But, at least it was something that actually had positive results; it wasn’t that she was lying to make a quick buck. And she most certainly wasn’t running away when they realized they had been fooled out of their cold, hard cash either.  
  
But her father was getting agitated again. She didn’t even need to look at him to realize that this was annoying him, but it came from knowing him so well. Still, she respected the doctor enough to let him say his piece, even if he didn’t. As she had told him earlier, he’d saved her father’s life. If he couldn’t appreciate that, then she was going to have to do it for him.  
  
“So have you two finished gossiping and can I actually leave now?”  
  
“Just another couple of minutes, Mr. Hamilton,” Whitson answered smoothly. “We need to update you on-“  
  
“And you couldn’t have told me _before_ Teresa got here?”  
  
Lisbon rolled her eyes. Then, the doctor seized the opportunity to tell his patient exactly what he’d told her minutes earlier. As she expected, the man reacted with abject horror to the idea of having to come to and from the hospital a couple of times a week for several weeks, just for therapy. When the check-up appointments were added on top of it, he looked like he wanted to punch the man. It seemed like he had thought he could take whatever pills they threw at him and run into the sunset, and never face this place again. But she knew he was going to be hard work, he always had been.  
  
Eventually they left and he was still complaining. Lisbon ignored most of his comments, quite frankly, she didn’t even care. They had far bigger issues to work out. Such as, where the heck he’d been since her family had been brutally killed by Red John.  
  
xxx  
  
It started off as a normal enough morning. Or at least, it was as normal as any morning for Patrick Jane could be. He wasn’t abruptly awakened by a phone call from Director Bertram, Minelli, or even an ADA or a member of his team. He did, however, have the same old trouble getting to sleep – and the same startled reaction when he’d woken up two hours later and momentarily forgotten that he had moved into his own private apartment. But insomnia was an age-old demon for Jane, and as far as he was concerned, those two hours were far better than nothing at all. He’d been able to get up, shower, eat some breakfast and take the leisurely drive into work.  
  
At work, he stopped by the empty bullpen for a second. Lisbon had the day off due to her father’s discharge from hospital, but Jane couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at the sight of her empty desk. When he had first moved out of her home, he found that he missed her terribly despite seeing each other almost daily at work. Even now, he was still adjusting to the fact that they had two different homes to go to. It was funny, but part of him felt safer with her nearby. He hadn’t felt that way about anybody since he was twelve years old.  
  
The morning was uneventful. He had a meeting with Minelli about their current cases, much to his dismay. However, Minelli always managed to keep these occasions short and sweet, but only provided that he hadn’t royally screwed up any cases lately. As the only ongoing investigation was Red John and his murder house, there were no issues whatsoever and he was free to leave comparatively early. Except, he felt like he could almost do with the distraction of an arduous meeting, one where he only had his wits to defend his good name. The office walls were beginning to close in on him; his whole team was beginning to go slowly mad. This was the issue with having so many bored individuals within close proximity to one another. They all really needed some sort of entertainment just to ensure that monotony never dared to seep in.  
  
In the end, Jane got his wish for a break to the monotony. Or at least, it was a break for him, alone. But, it was also the phone call that Patrick Jane was dreading the most arrived at precisely 11.37am and his heart sank when he heard Tommy’s tearful voice. Edward’s health had taken a sharp decline, and apparently he had just been moved onto palliative care and given a matter of hours to live. Without a word to anyone but Cho and Minelli, he immediately left. Suddenly, he found himself inordinately grateful for the simple fact that they currently didn't have a case in their hands; it made things a hell of a lot easier on him. Despite the fact Jane knew he could trust Cho to fill in for him, they still simply couldn't operate with both a lead agent and consultant down. It would be too stressful; the members of his unit would be stretched too far. And of course that wouldn't be fair on both his team and the deceased and their family. Their ability to close cases would be compromised and thus, it would diminish the chances of closing the proverbial case and bringing another killer to justice.  
  
But, even if they had gotten a new case, he would have left anyway. This was an emergency and sometimes, family just had to come first. Even though he had a tendency to avoid his brothers and their petty squabbling, he still loved them all dearly. He would never forgive himself if he didn't make it in time now. That was why he wasn’t bothering to waste any time on this journey now.  
  
He pushed his dear little Citroen to the very limit of what it could achieve. It was a design classic and Jane knew that he was very lucky to own it. Even so he couldn’t help but hope that it wouldn’t let him down now. Then again, it had always been a good runner and he’d been absolutely fine with it until now. On one memorable occasion, when he’d been operating undercover, he had managed to chase down a drugs’ dealer who was guilty of murder and arrest him in the thing. And this time around, Jane didn't even care if he got a speeding ticket; it wouldn't have been the first time.  
  
Jane’s heart thrummed erratically in his chest. He had always known that this day would come sooner or later; Edward's cancer was terminal. However, there were drugs that could prolong life and keep him comfortable. Terminal didn't always necessarily mean imminently. Jane and his brothers had all hoped that they would be able to keep hold of their brother for just a bit longer than this. After all, they had only just gotten to the stage where they could be in the same room and actually be glad of each other’s’ company rather than just being civil for Eddie’s sake. Damn it, he was too young to die. Coincidentally, he was the same age their mom had been when she had died in that fatal car crash. That thought settled uneasily in the forefront of his mind, just as it had done when Daniel had told him that Edward had taken a turn for the worse. Now that it was there, Jane found it virtually impossible to shake again.  
  
He pressed harder on the gas pedal, urging the little blue car to go just that bit faster than it already was. It was ironic; considering what had happened to his parents, he should really have learned from their mistakes. All three of his younger siblings had to a certain extent, though it obviously hadn’t done Edward any good in the long run. Instead, Jane had eschewed the responsibilities of fatherhood and chosen to live recklessly, just like their father had done. His job alone was a risk in itself. That was why he had always avoided marriage too; he didn't want a wife who would suffer the heartache of losing her husband. Jane had witnessed first-hand just how damaging becoming a widower could be at any given age. First, he had lost his maternal grandmother, leaving his grandfather desolate. Then, there was his mom and the disaster that had occurred following that. Besides, it was easier on his conscience this way. Of course his brothers would miss him terribly if he died - his coworkers and especially Lisbon too - but there were no dependents for him to cripple.  
  
While everyone had been getting along better since Edward's diagnosis, there were still major arguments between the four of them. He'd hoped that they would be capable of sticking together and standing beside one another. It wasn't the first time the Jane family had been faced with a major tragedy. Jane had managed to pull his brothers together back then, despite his tender years at the time. But, this time, he seemed to be failing dismally. They may have all been living in the same state once again but it wasn't enough to close the gap between all four of them. Not one of them could seem to agree what type of treatment was most suitable for their ailing sibling. What Tommy thought was best, Daniel found ludicrous. Then Edward - the actual patient in this sorry scenario - disagreed again. For the most part, Jane tried to avoid having an opinion; as far as he was concerned, Edward's choice was the one that had the most weight. Instead, tried to soothe tempers and encourage them to see it from one another's point of view. Somehow, whatever he said just made it all the worse. Still, he had to be grateful that they were all actually talking again; that was a small mercy in itself.  
  
Once again, Jane felt like his life was a mess. He was being pulled in so many different directions. If he spent too much time focusing on work - a blessed distraction from all the familial drama - then his brothers turned on him instead of each other for a change. But then, if he spent too much time tending to Edward or trying to stop the other two from killing each other, then his boss raised an eyebrow and Jane himself felt like he was failing at work. After all, Red John's murder house had delivered them twenty-seven bodies and each family needed to be informed of their loss. Even worse, in Jane's honest opinion, some of them had yet to be identified due to the state of decomposition. In some ways, losing a loved one to a dreadful illness was easier. Jane had his answers, unlike when his mom had died. Unlike poor Lisbon too, who was in the same state as these newly emerged relatives. Cancer may have been an utter bastard, but at least it was explainable. And with a disease such as that, you couldn’t wage war on it, or threaten to kill it in return. All that could be done was find suitable treatments and then, help fund charities to find the cure.  
  
About halfway into his journey, Jane’s cellphone started to ring, but he couldn’t justify stopping to answer it. Then, the ringing became persistent but Jane continued to ignore it. He could imagine the irate messages from Daniel and Tommy without hearing them anyway. They would claim that he'd been irresponsible, loitering at work for so long. They would insinuate that he cared more about the dead bodies whose murders he was investigating over his own flesh and blood. They would try and guilt-trip him for not spending Edward's final living hours beside his bed. But, while Jane knew he was cutting it fine, he also knew that it should be okay. This drive, however, was driving him insane. That was why all he could think about was the past and what could be happening right now. One of these days, he swore his imagination could kill him. Sometimes it was far too vibrant and macabre.  
  
Edward Jane had been moved to a beautiful hospice approximately three hours from Sacramento, if the traveling was good. At the moment the roads were clear, and Jane was relieved. Still, as beautiful as it was and as fantastic as the nurses were, Jane couldn't help but feel a little bit bitter about the distance; there were many equally great places that Edward could have stayed in in Sacramento alone. If Edward had settled a little closer to the state capitol of California, then maybe he would have been able to visit more frequently. Even though Jane was more than comfortable traveling long distances by car or plane - his job took him across the length and breadth of California - sometimes, it was just too much. He just couldn't justify traveling for three hours there and then back again after a long shift at work. It just wasn't physically possible. But this had been what Edward had wanted, so who was Jane to judge? He was as happy as he could be, given his imminent demise and lived equidistant from Daniel and Tommy. They had more spare time to spend with him, anyway. So, all Jane could do was be grateful that he was in the same state. If he had still lived in Illinois as he has done five years ago, then this mad dash to the hospice just wouldn't be possible. Even though Minelli understood the importance of family, he wouldn't have been able to spare him for an indefinite stretch of time.  
  
Despite being in a rush, Jane did spend a minute stretching after he got out of his car at the hospice. His back ached after the long ride; three hours without stopping was more than enough for anybody. He had already noticed that both Tommy and Daniel’s cars were parked up nearby. Then, he made his way in. Usually, the building was very cheerful, despite it being a place where people lived up until their deaths. The staff always did an excellent job at keeping people’s spirits up and never dwelled upon the negative aspect of their work. However, on this occasion, the utterly polite and professional receptionist looked upon him with watering eyes. Already, he felt a spasm of fear rush through him. When she ushered him to the manager’s office, he felt his knees shake. Jane didn’t need to be a psychic (fake or otherwise) to know what was going on. Usually, they just waved a cheerful ‘hello’ to him and encouraged him to go right on through.  
  
Nervously, Jane knocked on the closed door. Normally, he wasn’t inclined to knock once inside a building, but he knew he was just trying to delay the inevitable. He couldn’t help it; it was human nature.  
  
“Mr. Jane, please take a seat,” the manager said, indicating to the chair opposite her.  
  
“I’d rather not,” he answered back. “Please, just tell me what’s happened.”  
  
“Patrick…” the woman started, already resorting to the use of forenames in order to inject a more personal bond into the situation. It was a tactic he had often used in order to get criminals to confess. However, he knew that she was trying to do it to make the bitter pill just that easier to swallow. “I’m so sorry, but your brother passed away an hour ago.”


	16. Chapter 16

Almost instinctively, Lisbon seemed to know precisely what had happened to him yesterday afternoon. Without another word, she slowly, tentatively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he was relieved that they were within the privacy of his office. Still, it was only when Jane enveloped her in return that she squeezed him that little more tightly and reassuringly. Despite stoically not talking about what was going on with his family since Edward’s initial diagnosis, during his treatment and when the news came through that his cancer was terminal, she had known what was wrong. After all, she always did. As a consequence, Jane knew that she knew; he could read her too. That simple fact always made him feel that little less alone in the world. Over the past couple of months, Lisbon had never needed to talk to offer him comfort and he was grateful for that. With three - now two, he thought with a painful ragged sigh - demanding brothers to deal with, he often felt all talked out. But now, she was continuing with her fantastic work, comforting without patronizing and not saying glib phrases that nobody really wanted to hear. Already, he had heard the words 'I am so sorry for your loss' too many times. Only twenty-four hours had passed since Edward Jane had lost his fight to cancer and Jane knew he had a lot more false sympathy to endure. After all, it was only the very beginning of the condolences he would be offered by friends and acquaintances. Already, he felt like he wanted to shoot the next person who said that precise phrase though.  
  
Eventually, Lisbon let go of him and took a step back to eye him critically. Jane could practically feel her piercing green eyes boring into his soul and reading his every motion. Clear as daylight, she could see every look, from the tiredness of his muscles to the sadness in his eyes. Sometimes, he hated it when she did this, which was why he often gave her the same treatment just to irritate her. But this time, he was simply too tired to even care about what she did. He had already known that she would do this anyway; he wouldn't have expected anything less of her. And although he knew that she hated abusing her skills around her coworkers, sometimes it was just impossible to switch them off. After all, just how did you stop reading people when it was all you had trained to do all of your life?  
  
"Are you sure you should be here?" Lisbon asked quietly and Jane nodded in response.  
  
"I'm fine," he answered back.  
  
"Please,” she scoffed in obvious irritation, “that sounds like something I would say."  
  
"Teresa, I need to be around people right now. I need..."  
  
He trailed off but she finished the sentence off for him anyway. "The distraction?"  
  
"Yeah," Jane agreed tiredly.  
  
He sat down on his couch, reveling in the feel of soft leather beneath him. Lisbon immediately sat down right beside him; this time she needed no encouragement to stick close to him. He was beginning to regret letting the others know why he’d had to leave abruptly yesterday now. It wasn’t as if he’d said much, just that he’d endured a family tragedy and may be a little busier in the immediate future, but it was enough to change things. Rigsby and Van Pelt appeared to be avoiding him; they didn't want to say the wrong thing and it was almost annoying him. He understood why they felt at a loss, but he also wished they would just treat him like they usually did. Just because he was currently grieving, it didn't mean he wasn't still himself. At least Cho was just being Cho; his second in command was as reliable as ever. After a brief - and well-meant - apology, he moved straight onto updating him on the developments that had happened on their cases yesterday afternoon. And from someone like Cho, that was just what he'd needed; the normality, the stability, and just being able to get on with the job. As much as Jane liked his team, he still needed that distance from them too. It wasn't that he wanted to keep his private life private, exactly. It was more of a case of not wanting to burden them with his issues. Besides, with his type of methodology, it was almost better that they didn't understand him inside out.  
  
Lisbon, meanwhile, she was different. There was something about her which made it feel like she was naturally trustworthy. As a consequence, people just wanted to tell her the truth. It was useful too; she managed to get so many successful leads or confessions out of people who would have otherwise been reluctant to help the police. Jane couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was but then again, he didn't care either. This, he figured, was why she was so successful when she had masqueraded as a psychic too, in spite of all her obvious tells. People naturally trusted her and believed that she could help them, one way or another. Therefore, she was capable of doing things that none of the others could even dream of on the job. And right now, although they were still skirting around the issue, he was already feeling a lot better. That was just because she was there, with him.  
  
"And what about you?" he asked and she shrugged her shoulders. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" she answered back stiffly.  
  
Jane wasn't surprised by the fact she had chosen to lie to him after a moment's deliberation. She didn't like opening up to people any more than he did. It was why they rarely spoke about their issues. Jane knew that this could make their relationship unhealthy, but they were both as stubborn as each other. He had a feeling that it would take a mutual agreement for them to begin to be more honest with each other. If they couldn’t handle being more honest with one another, then they would have to agree to be less evasive instead. Maybe; they had a good thing going for them anyway. At least, when it came to work, they operated smoothly with one another. Cases seemed easy to solve even if they didn't appear like they should be at face value. But that didn't mean it was easy for them to talk about the things that really mattered. Things like their respective histories, her father or his brother. Those subjects hurt though, and that was why they both chose to bury it deep within themselves instead of actually talking about it with somebody who cared. At least, that was what Jane believed the issue was. Sometimes, he swore that Lisbon was altogether well too healed for somebody who had once found her beloved husband and daughter brutally murdered by a notorious serial killer.  
  
"You never talk about your father," Jane said lightly. "Before his accident, I assumed he'd died."  
  
"There isn't much to say."  
  
"He made you the person you are today," Jane argued and Lisbon sent him a pointed glare.  
  
"So did your parents," she countered.  
  
Jane flinched. Were it not for the fact he had just lost a sibling, he might have been able to take her comment with good humor. As it was, it cut him straight to the bone. But that was only because she was entirely right. If he hadn't been orphaned by sixteen, then he wouldn't be who he was today. She swallowed deeply, glanced away and then looked at him again. Lisbon knew that she had taken a step too far.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t apologize; you’re right,” he admitted.  
  
“Jane…”  
  
“Lisbon, just leave it.”  
  
The undercurrent of tension made him uncomfortable. He was angry at her for saying the words in the first place, but even more so at her for apologizing for it. It was a strange situation for him to be in, but Jane didn’t even care. He balled his hands up into fists as he tried to calm himself down, but it wasn’t working very well. Damn it, work was meant to be a distraction, not cause him even more issues. He should have known better, should have known that Lisbon wouldn’t know where and when to stop. Everything she did was in good faith, she believed it was for the best, but sometimes, he just didn’t want to hear it. Worse, he knew that later she would be wasting her breath on him, praying to her God, asking him to ensure his brother’s safe passage to heaven and that Jane himself would learn to find closure swiftly. It shouldn’t have felt like an insult; Jane knew that he should feel honored that she would inevitably think of him in such a way. But that didn’t change the fact that right now, it just felt out of place. There was no heaven and hell. His brother was dead, gone, just like her family and all the praying in the world wasn’t going to change that.  
  
She stood to leave, but Jane grabbed hold of her wrist before she even had a chance to move away. Lisbon glared at him a little but Jane refused to let go until she relented and sat down again. They needed to talk through this, he knew it. Some people said that it was unhealthy to go to sleep on an argument. That point mostly applied to couples as far as he was concerned, but he viewed her as his partner at work. Other senior agents might have frowned, have stated that surely it should have been Kimball Cho who fulfilled that role, but Jane didn’t care. He didn’t do anything normally and that was why he was so determined to sort through this issue with Lisbon before anything went too far.  
  
“Can you come to the funeral with me?” Jane asked suddenly and Lisbon looked momentarily stunned.  
  
“What?”  
  
“The funeral, I need you to come with me.”  
  
“I heard you the first time,” she answered back, a little snappishly. “But why?”  
  
“I can’t do it on my own.”  
  
She stopped and looked as if she was mulling over the statement. For Jane, it was a big admission. It took a lot for him to admit that he needed help, but this was one of those occasions where he genuinely needed it. He physically couldn’t face burying his younger sibling without her soothing presence beside him. Even their arguments ended up making him feel better, mostly because she always made him see another point of view.  
  
“You have your brothers.”  
  
It wasn’t a refusal; it was an argument against her presence there. This was something that Jane knew he could work with.  
  
“They’ll need me to support them, just like they always do. What about me? Who do I turn to?”  
  
“Jane…”  
  
Again, she had that pitying look in her eyes and Jane knew that it was going to take a lot for her to budge. Despite growing up surrounded by family, Jane had always felt painfully alone. He was the proverbial black sheep of the family, the dangerous one, the rebellious one, the risk-taker, the leader, the trouble-maker. Uncles and aunts threw so many labels at him and somehow, most of them had stuck. They conveniently forgot that he had almost single-handedly brought up three boys to be responsible adults. Losing Edward wasn’t just like losing a brother to him, but almost a son too. That was why he was hurting so much, and that was why he felt so broken. And the loss of a child before their time was something that Jane knew Lisbon could relate to.  
  
“Please?” he whispered.  
  
“Fine,” she relented.  
  
He smiled wryly; it hadn’t been too difficult to persuade her to accompany him, especially as her priorities currently laid elsewhere. Jane did feel a little guilty about dragging her away from her father, but part of him didn’t care either. This was the first time he had asked her directly to be involved in something personal, and he hoped it would be the much-needed first step for the both of them. They needed to be open with one another; he cared about her far too much for anything else.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“It hasn’t happened yet.”  
  
“I know, but I’m grateful anyway,” Jane said in response. “And Teresa, forget about what you said earlier. It doesn’t matter. You have more important things to worry about.”  
  
“You still want to know what the deal is between me and my father, don’t you?” she answered. Technically, it was a rhetorical question. They both knew it was the truth.  
  
“It can wait,” Jane replied.  
  
“Good, because I wouldn’t want to burden you right now.”  
  
“Believe me, Teresa, anything you could say to me wouldn’t be a burden.”  
  
She was about to open her mouth to obviously disagree with his statement but there was a knock in(on) the door. Lisbon was the one to stand and answer it, much to Jane’s relief. He suddenly felt exceptionally exhausted by the morning’s proceedings. An embarrassed-looking Rigsby slipped inside and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. It was clear that he hadn’t wanted to disturb them, but had obviously pulled the short straw out in the bullpen. He had his cellphone in one hand and Jane knew exactly what words were about to come out of his mouth.  
  
“We caught one, Jane.”  
  
“Okay, where?”  
  
With what felt like superhuman effort, Jane hauled himself back up off the couch. It felt like he always naturally gravitated towards his innocuous piece of furniture. But today, anything felt like hard work. Even so, this was the distraction that Jane had been looking for and he couldn’t help but be grateful for that. On some level, he knew it was sick that focusing on somebody else’s heartbreak was distracting him from his own, but that was the way of the world. If people didn’t murder each other, then he wouldn’t have a job at all. He glanced briefly at Lisbon, who looked almost as relieved as he did about the distraction. It was strange; technically, her news was good news. Her father, her only family, had just been discharged from hospital after a life-threatening accident. They had rediscovered each other after a long period without contact. On paper, there should have been scenes of jubilation as a consequence.  
  
But when it came to Ms. Teresa Lisbon, nothing was that simple. She wouldn’t talk about her relationship with her father, but even he could tell it was uncomfortable at the very least. And he wanted to know more. She had skills that he didn’t in her arsenal; she could work out what was wrong without even asking. Meanwhile, he could usually work out the basic issue, but he needed to know more if he was truly going to help. But she wasn’t telling and any time he broached the subject, she found an excuse to divert it once again. As irritating as it was, the defensive walls made her who she was. And besides, Patrick Jane had always reveled in a challenge.  
  
For now, Lisbon and her issues were irrelevant. They needed to spring into action in order to get this case on the move. When he reached the bullpen, it was already a flurry of activity as the team prepared to leave for the crime scene. There was a hint of excitement in the air; Jane knew that his subordinates had been getting bored during this comparatively quiet spell. Even though they had work to do – there was always something for the Serious Crimes Unit to focus on – there was something about new cases that gave them a spike of energy. They operated like a piece of well-oiled machinery; he didn’t need to give anyone direct instructions because everybody knew exactly what role they were expected to carry out.  
  
Jane enjoyed the quiet solitude of sharing a car with Lisbon. She drove sedately, and showed off her infinite patience whenever she was behind the wheel of a car. He found her fascinating to watch and could always tell the moment when his attention managed to get under her skin. Jane liked that too; she wasn’t the only one capable of playing mind games on other people. Turning the tables onto her always entertained him. And a little bit of fun was something that they could both do with at this moment in time. She didn’t say much, but her cellphone rang several times during the hour and a half journey. Instead, Lisbon ignored it much like she was trying to avoid rising to his bait. She knew that he was trying to get a rise out of her, but it was obvious their prior argument (of sorts) was still lingering on in her mind. Lisbon didn’t want to offend him again, but he knew that she wouldn’t, not really. There were far more important things for him to be worrying about.  
  
The coroner greeted them both the moment they pulled up in front of the nondescript bowling alley. Steiner first shook Jane’s hand, with a look of annoyance in his eyes, and then shook Lisbon’s. It was the first time that the two of them had met. Despite being at least twenty years her senior, Steiner started to hit on her and it immediately made Jane’s skin crawl. This was why he had never liked this specific coroner. Because of his qualifications and education, he seemed to think that societal rules were designed for people less important than he. Briefly, Jane allowed his fingers to graze against Lisbon’s shoulder. She looked across at him warily before pulling away as they entered the building. The others had gotten separated from them while on the road, but there was no point in them waiting for them to arrive. Jane knew that he and Lisbon might as well take a look at the body now. Then, they could get away from creepy eyes Steiner and get on with investigating the actual murder.  
  
They were taken straight to lane five. Jane noticed that there were two women standing beside the bar, one sobbing and the other had placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. Quietly, Lisbon pointed out the empty shot glasses beside them; they had needed a stiff drink, but it still wasn’t quite enough to get over the shock. Jane made a mental note that they would have to talk to these two women later; they had probably been the first people to see the body, excepting the killer himself (or herself), of course. Hopefully, they would have something of use to say. Jane knew from experience that leads could come from any given direction. It must have been at least three hours since the body was discovered, and they looked like it had happened moments ago. Shock was a funny thing; some people (like him) denied it, buried it down, whereas these women were wearing their hearts on their respective sleeves.  
  
The body, somehow, was mangled into the pin re-setter machinery. Blood spilled onto the lanes and over the fallen bowling pins. Jane was about to make his way down the wooden lane to get a closer look, but Lisbon put a hand on his arm and he stopped immediately. Turning to face her, he raised an eyebrow and waited for an explanation.  
  
“Slip trip,” she said simply, before expanding on the statement. “The lanes have been oiled. Makes certain types of bowling ball react differently.”  
  
“Hmm, I never took you for a ten pin bowler, Lisbon,” Jane replied lightly.  
  
“I’ve only been once or twice,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “But you pick up these things. That machine over there strips the oil off the lane and then replaces it with a fresh coat, or so I believe.”  
  
Jane glanced across to lane one and just beyond it was the machine that Lisbon was referring to. By the looks of it, it was something they could have done with right now. The body was in a very awkward position. He and Lisbon needed to get a closer look and Steiner did too, so that he could ultimately carry out his job. At this moment in time, they didn’t even have a time or cause of death. However, the location at least meant that there wasn’t going to be much damage done to the crime scene; nothing would have been disturbed since the killer had been here.  
  
“And is there anyone who can use it?”  
  
“Yes,” Steiner answered quickly, but then he pointed at the body. “But he’s right there. His name is Edward McKinnon and he’s the alley’s resident lane technician.”  
  
“Surely they have more than one technician?” Lisbon asked. “There are thirty lanes in this alley.”  
  
“Oh, sure,” Steiner concurred with a bright smile. “But he’s on vacation.”  
  
Lisbon rolled her eyes, but Jane had to agree with her that it was just typical for that to be the case. He sincerely doubted the manager would have a clue how to use it, in spite of paying thousands and thousands of dollars on the upkeep on the place. The building was in an eerie state. Beyond the two women, there were no other members of the public in the place; the alley had been shut down upon the discovery of the body. The fruit machines, all plying to take gambler’s money had been shut down. Instead of bright lights and cheerful musical tones encouraging people to take a look, they were seen for the dead and soulless pieces of machinery that they actually were. And said manager was still nowhere to be seen, probably hiding in his office, fielding calls from irate customers and staff members. To so many people, murder was an irritation, a problem, and it got in the way of their lives. There was no respect for the dead. Considering what had just happened to his family – and the name of this latest victim – Jane couldn’t help but find it even more insulting than usual.  
  
Of course, that didn’t mean the manager was off the hook. They still needed to speak to them. And, there was still the distinct possibility that they were responsible for this death. It was certainly something to think about.  
  
Between lanes five and six was the ball return. Lisbon was the first to venture onto it, carefully taking her steps down there to get a little bit closer to the body. Jane couldn’t help but wonder momentarily if she had gone utterly mad. She, after all, was the one who had casually reminded him about the hazards that the lanes posed to him. As she walked, she stared at the freshly oiled lanes, as if it was the key to unlocking the mystery of the case. Then, once she reached the end, she tentatively stepped off of the ball return, over the gutter and onto the lane itself. She stared at the body briefly, but then beckoned for him to follow. It was only when he was standing by her side that she started to speak.  
  
“They only oil approximately two-thirds of the lane. It depends on the oil pattern that the mechanic keys into the machine. Sometimes, it’s a little longer. On other occasions, it’s a bit shorter.”  
  
“Are you sure you’ve only been bowling once or twice?” Jane asked before he climbed on his hands and knees.  
  
Blood was still dripping out of the body. Jane wondered just how much more could possibly fall. There was no chance that his heart was still beating, pushing the blood around the body. McKinnon had been dead for at least six hours, by Jane’s estimation. And besides, there was only a finite amount of blood in anybody. Of course, erythrocytes regenerated, but only as others died. He peered a little more closely, taking care not to disturb the body at all. As much as he loathed Steiner, he didn’t want to make his job any more difficult than it already was.  
  
“There are a couple of stab wounds, from what I can see,” Jane said as Lisbon crouched beside him. “I need a flashlight to get a proper look.”  
  
“What? You think I carry that kind of thing around with me?” Lisbon countered before venturing her own opinion. “I think he was still alive when he was placed in the machinery.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“The lane has been used, just once, since it’s been oiled. You can see the path it took in the oil.”  
  
“Helped by the fact there’s a bowling ball just there?”  
  
Jane pointed out the ball. It was blue and silver, custom drilled and possibly, it had been engraved with a name. This wasn’t the kind of ball that the regular punters used; it was something a little more special than that. But the question was, how could he have been alive before being wedged into the machinery? There were definitely some broken bones where it had trapped him as it moved. Jane shuddered; it must have been a very painful way to die.  
  
“He was probably stabbed, knocked unconscious, and then put in there.”  
  
“He’s been tied up in several places,” Lisbon added.  
  
“No chance of escape if he were to regain consciousness before he died.”  
  
“Poor soul,” she breathed and then they heard the familiar voice of Rigsby filling the alley.  
  
They turned around, and he headed straight onto the lane approach, over the foul line and onto the lane itself. He made it exactly three steps before he began to lose his balance and fall flat on his ass. Jane couldn’t help it; he had to laugh at his hapless subordinate. Even Lisbon was trying to stifle a laugh beside him. He shook his head, he’d seen enough. Jane took Lisbon by the arm and together, they walked back up to where Rigsby was nursing his bruised ego as much as his bruised backside. Jane smiled slightly; at least his team wasn’t bored now. At least he had that distraction he so desperately wanted.  
  
And the case, already, had some very interesting leads to start investigating. Starting first, with whoever the blue and silver bowling ball belonged to.


	17. Chapter 17

Three hours ago, Teresa Lisbon had agreed to accompany Patrick Jane to the funeral of his younger brother, Edward. She had known that he had cancer without him telling her and she had known that he was losing the fight to it as well. It was also clear as day just how much of a burden it was on Jane himself. He wouldn’t talk about it – talking made situations like this painfully real – but he hadn’t needed to. She had simply been able to tell. Despite the problems she was having with her father, Lisbon had attempted to support him as best she could. She hoped it was beneficial; she couldn’t tell from face value. Although she could read people, Jane was a layer of masks and mysteries. What she sometimes thought could be the truth was only revealed to be another mask at a later date.  
  
She wasn’t sure, but she thought she was beginning to regret her decision to accompany him. Lisbon understood his plea for tea and sympathy, she understood his need for support, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was the right person to offer it. Already, she was worried that she was going to be stepping on the toes of the mourning friends and family of Edward Jane. She hadn’t even met the man once, even briefly, and Jane hadn’t even told her much about him. All she knew about him was what she had figured out from light research and through reading Jane. Once she had become an established member of his team, she had immediately stopped actively seeking out information on her coworkers and their families. It felt wrong, like a betrayal of trust. She hoped that, by now, they knew that if they wanted to tell her something they could trust her to respect it too. Even so, maintaining that balance was tough and she found it a daily battle to fight against the natural instincts that had been nurtured inside of her by her father. Instinctively, she already knew just how out of place she was going to be at that funeral, but she was determined to remain true to her word. It was what he wanted; he wouldn’t have asked her otherwise. Jane hated to admit to weakness, so it was a Big Deal, with capital letters and everything.  
  
They were sitting in the bar with the two women that they had spotted earlier. Lisbon immediately noted that more shots had been consumed by both women. Despite it barely being the afternoon both women were very tipsy, verging on being outright drunk. She hoped that whatever they had to say would prove to be useful even though they were intoxicated. Then again, alcohol loosened the tongue; there was always the chance that they would be more inclined to tell the truth because they had been drinking rather than in spite of it. However, despite her logical thinking, she couldn't help but judge them for their decision. She herself didn't have an especially healthy relationship with alcohol. On too many occasions, her father had drunk too much and it had always triggered his darker sides. Lisbon knew that Jane's dad had been the same; the difference between their respective fathers was that Alex Jane's alcoholism had destroyed him. Jason Hamilton's had not.  
  
Her cellphone had rung almost persistently since they had been on the road to the crime scene. Even now they were here, it was still yet to stay silent for longer than five minutes. Lisbon knew exactly who was calling her so frequently and she wasn't going to give into him any time soon. He knew she was at work, knew that she could arrive home at any time. Lisbon had also promised him that she would come home at some point; she wouldn't abandon him indefinitely and especially without informing him. To add insult to injury, her father was capable of looking after himself. All he needed was for someone to check on him a few times a day. But, he wanted her world to revolve around him once again, just like it had in the old days. That was something that Lisbon just wasn't willing to give him, not anymore. She was a grown woman, of almost forty and if he didn't realize she deserved her own life now, then would he ever?  
  
Lisbon tried to clear her mind of all thoughts of Jason Hamilton; a difficult task when he was so desperate for her attention, like an overgrown school child. But she needed to; theoretically, these two women could know something useful about the murder and it was her job to try and extract it out of them.  
  
"Whose bowling ball is that?" Lisbon asked after Jane had finished with the boring - but necessary questions and the two women had introduced themselves. "It doesn't look like one that belongs to the alley."  
  
The redheaded woman, the one who had been doing the comforting up until now snorted derisively at the very thought. From what she could see while on the lane, Lisbon had already known that it was a privately owned piece of kit. However, her insinuation had been enough for the woman to look at her like she was a dumb kid who had just recited her times tables wrong.  
  
"Oh please, what bowling alley in their right mind would stock reactive bowling balls with fingertip drilling for the idiots of the general public to use? Of course it's not a house brick."  
  
"Renee, please," the brunette murmured quietly, speaking for the first time since identifying herself. "They're cops. They wouldn't know the difference."  
  
"He's the cop, I'm just a consultant," Lisbon said, unable to resist the urge to correct her. “Sorry.”  
  
"It was your bowling ball, wasn't it?" Jane spoke, looking directly at the more desolate of the two women. Lisbon was relieved that Jane had taken the initiative to cover up the awkward silence that had followed her statement. The two women still looked lost and the sooner this was over and done with, the better.  
  
"Yes," the brunette managed to sniff before dissolving into a flurry of tears. "It's my fault; I killed him!"  
  
"Hush, Bex," Renee murmured, stroking a hand up and down her spine. "You didn't kill him; it's not your fault."  
  
"Can you tell us exactly what happened, please?" Lisbon asked.  
  
At this moment, Lisbon spotted that the barkeep - one of the few members of staff present at the bowling alley – had disappeared without saying a word to anybody. She didn't comment on it; they needed to get Bex and Renee's story straight first. Then, they would hear about Rigsby and Cho's progress with the manager. However, the man’s disappearance was mildly interesting to say the least. Though she had attempted eye contact, he had somehow managed to avoid it at all costs and that was always something that made her feel a little suspicious. He definitely had a story to tell, but the question was what.  
  
"We come here every Wednesday morning; it's always quiet then so we're usually the only bowlers here. We come for practice for the Thursday doubles league," Renee explained and briefly she glanced over at lane five. "It's when Eddie does all the maintenance work, because there's no one around to bother him."  
  
"Go on," Jane said encouragingly.  
  
"We always use lanes five and six. They’re Bex's lucky lanes. If she gets a PB it's on those lanes."  
  
"Two lanes?" Jane asked, somewhat surprised. Lisbon smirked slightly; though the technicalities of league bowling weren’t something she knew much about either, it was always fun to see Jane out of his league too.  
  
"Yeah. League bowlers alternate lanes,” Renee answered dryly; her tone insinuated that she believed all this to be common knowledge. “It makes it fairer on both teams."  
  
"And what happened this morning?"  
  
"Nothing seemed wrong when we got here. We didn’t see Eddie, but that’s not strange. We just assumed he was working behind the scenes, on pin spotters or something. Besides, he’s been having problems with lane eleven for weeks now. So Karl - the manager - put us on our regular lanes and we got ready, like usual. We both have our own gear, of course. Bex was excited because she'd just bought a new ball; Eddie recommended it..."  
  
"I am never using that ball again," Bex suddenly wailed and Renee placed a comforting hand back on her shoulder.  
  
"Our lanes were on practice mode so we could warm up and adjust to the oil pattern. Bex went first, picked up her new strike ball, bowled it, and..."  
  
Her voice cracked as she finished her monologue. Considering she wasn't entirely sober, she had done an excellent job at recounting the tale. But then, Bex had had far more to drink than Renee. The vacant look in her eyes said a lot; she was using alcohol to cover up the pain. Besides, she was the one feeling guilty for something that she wasn't responsible for and she was the one struggling to hold it all together. Lisbon understood what it felt like to be in such a situation and she wasn't going to judge. It would take time, but Bex would have to learn how to move on with this. Finding the person who was actually responsible would be a start of course.  
  
"The pin spotter came down, with Edward instead of the pins?" Lisbon suggested and Renee nodded, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear as she did so.  
  
"There was so much blood. Everyone screamed and then that was it. I called 911 and Bex fainted."  
  
"I'm sorry, but I have to ask..." Lisbon looked pointedly at Bex who had managed to pull her head up off of the table for approximately half a minute. "Were you and Eddie lovers?"  
  
That was enough to tip the woman back over the edge. She burst into tears again, spilt the bottle of water that Renee had supplied her with in lieu of alcohol during her last crying fit and collapsed back in a heap on the table. Renee nodded, confirming Lisbon's question although the brunette's non-answer was enough of a response anyway. That was something else that explained why she was quite as desolate as she was as opposed to the pale shock written across her friend and bowling partner's face. If they had just been acquaintances, exchanging pleasantries once a week at the bowling alley, then she simply wouldn't have acted as if her heart had been torn in two.  
  
"They hadn't been dating long, just six months, but things were already getting pretty serious between them."  
  
"One last thing and then we will leave you in peace," Jane said clearly and the attention of everybody involved was drawn directly to him. "Where were you between the hours of six am and nine am?"  
  
"At Bex's. I stayed overnight to get away from my good-for-nothing husband, if only for a little bit. We arrived here dead on ten am, like usual," Renee answered, her tone clipped. "But Agent Jane, you seriously can't be insinuating that we were responsible for Eddie's murder?"  
  
"It's just procedure," Lisbon assured them, though that wasn't of much use in Bex's case. "Thank you for your time."  
  
They walked out together, close enough for some level of intimacy but far enough apart to not be touching. Lisbon shoved her hands in her pockets, deep in thought about the case. They had finally managed to corner and speak to the barkeep just after they had finished dealing with the two women who had discovered the body. However, he had only confirmed his name and stated that he hadn't seen anything. All he’d apparently done was come running when he heard screaming, and helped to revive Bex after she had fainted at the shock. Then, he had continued with his work and given them each a couple of stiff drinks on the house to soothe their nerves while they waited for the police to arrive. Still, Lisbon was certain that he wasn't telling the entire truth. There was something about his demeanor which hadn't settled right; something about him suggested that he was involved somehow, not necessarily with the murder but with Bex and Renee at least. She shook her head slightly as she climbed into the driver’s seat of the SUV. That was something she would have to figure out later. It was still early days in the case.  
  
Rigsby had stayed behind to check on the security tapes with the manager of the bowling alley. He was convinced that the cameras must have picked up something, based on where the body had been hidden. It didn’t necessarily mean they had seen the murder itself, but it could have picked up the placement of the body by the killer. Both Lisbon and Jane wholeheartedly agreed with his sentiment. It definitely wasn't a coincidence; somebody wanted Edward McKinnon's body to be discovered by these two women. They wanted to send a message to these women by virtue of murder. Lisbon wanted to investigate Bex and her love life a little more, but the combination of shock and alcohol meant that it was barely possible for them to get a coherent sentence out of her at this moment in time. It was a wonder that she had been able to say as much as she had done. At least her significantly calmer - and more sober - friend had been able to give them something to work with.  
  
But for now, they had to go and inform the family of the deceased. At the moment, they were oblivious to Edward's fate and believed he had just headed to work, as usual. Like Jane, Lisbon hated this part of the job. Sometimes, she wondered what it would have been like if some unlucky cop - maybe even Jane himself - had been forced to come and tell her that her husband and daughter had been brutally murdered by Red John. In the immediate aftermath, would she have coped better having not seen the bodies? Or did knowing first-hand what had happened to them make the burden easier to cope with? She didn't know. Sometimes, Lisbon believed that she would be able to move on, put Eva and Andrew in a small box in her memory palace and actually live again. Maybe she would have even been able to fall in love again. On other occasions, she wondered if she would only ever be capable of doing so when Red John was safely behind bars. There were also a few dark moments when she truly believed that the scars would be too much for her to bear. That, regardless of what happened to Red John she would still be buried in her grief for the rest of her life, even if she didn’t appear to be in such a state at face value. The worst thing about her current predicament was the fact that she was stuck, living in limbo. As well as she appeared on the inside, Lisbon knew that she wouldn't truly be able to move on until Red John was six feet under. And even then, it would still be tough.  
  
That was half the reason she was so determined to try and make the grieving process as easy as possible for Jane. He was obviously stricken by the loss of his brother, despite the fact he'd been warned of it a couple of months ago. That didn't make it any easier. After what had happened to his parents, it was obvious that the Jane siblings had clung to one another and now, that balance had been destroyed. Jane was simply running on autopilot, because that was all he could do at this moment in time. Lisbon had seen the expression on his face when they had learned the forename of their current victim; a moment's hurt and pain brought to the forefront of his mind. Then, he had buried it back down because he had to remain professional and respectful. That was something else that Lisbon had a deep understanding of. All she could do was be there for him; if he needed to talk, he would. It was as simple as that. However, it didn't make it any easier on Lisbon.  
  
When they pulled up in front of the McKinnon residence, Lisbon briefly opened her mouth to offer Jane a little comfort. Promptly, she clamped it shut again. Anything she could have said was trite and cliché, the kind of thing he would inevitably hear over and over. She didn't want to annoy him; in some ways acting like normal was more beneficial to him. So, she killed the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt. They had an interview to perform.  
  
"Come on; let's get this over and done with. And maybe, I'll treat you to a late lunch after."  
  
"There's no need for you to do that," Jane said quietly.  
  
"I want to," she answered simply.  
  
He didn't argue. Instead, Jane knocked abruptly on the front door of the house. In silence, they waited patiently for an answer. Eventually, a man with black and white peppered hair answered and eyed them dubiously. From their attire, Lisbon knew it wasn't entirely obvious that they were cops. Past occurrences not too dissimilar to this one had had them accused of being all sorts of random visitors, mostly of the unwelcome variety. That was because the only indication that they were was the badge and gun clipped to Jane's waist and even they were partially obscured by his pinstriped suit.  
  
"I don't want to buy anything, we regularly donate to specific charities that our dear to our hearts," Mr. McKinnon said bluntly before they had the opportunity to introduce themselves. "And my wife and I are very happy members of the Presbyterian Church. We are not looking to convert to Mormonism or any other religion, for that matter."  
  
"We're not salespeople or religious activists," Jane assured him as he unclipped the badge on his belt. "We're here about your son."  
  
"Eddie hasn't done anything wrong. He's been on the straight and narrow since he went to rehab, quit his drugs problem. He's-"  
  
"He's been killed," Jane interrupted.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Murdered, this morning. Can we-" Jane stopped speaking the moment that the man's knees crumpled, unable to hold his own body weight any longer. Lisbon stepped forward, supporting him underneath the armpit before he regained some composure. Slowly, steadily, she helped him through to the lounge, where his wife was sitting and sipping at a cup of tea.  
  
"John? Why have you let these cold callers inside?" his wife questioned, glaring at them both. "Now look here, I want you to leave my property-"  
  
"They're cops. It's Eddie," John coughed.  
  
She collapsed back down on the leather couch and looked at them one by one. Then, she drained her cup as she came to terms with the revelation; cops appearing on her doorstep about her son didn't seem too unexpected for the woman, or so Lisbon believed. Jane took a seat too, but Lisbon remained standing and it was only then that she considered why they were actually there.  
  
"I knew it. I knew it was too good to be true,” she hissed, clearly disappointed in her only son. “I knew he was lying about the girlfriend. What's he done now? Is it just using or has he started dealing again?"  
  
"It's neither - as far as we know," Lisbon muttered.  
  
"He's been found murdered at work, the bowling alley," Jane added.  
  
"You're lying," she answered back.  
  
"I wish I was," Jane replied grimly.  
  
"You've both mentioned that he has a prior history of drug abuse. Could you expand on it for us?” Lisbon enquired as politely as possible. “It may be pertinent to the case.”  
  
The husband nodded and he went into full detail about his son’s previous issues and the convictions he’d received. He went on to inform them just how proud he was of the way that Edward had been able to turn his life around, how pleased he’d been when he’d gotten himself both a job at the bowling alley and a new girlfriend. John McKinnon even said how much that both he and his wife had been looking forward to meeting the girlfriend next week. During the explanation, Lisbon kept more of an eye on his wife, however. Lucinda McKinnon clearly didn’t share her husband’s sentiments – either that, or she believed he was sugar-coating the truth in fear of speaking ill of the dead. Lisbon had a shrinking suspicion that it was more the former than the latter. John’s words felt like they had come from a good place.  
  
After he had finished talking, Jane excused himself and offered everyone a cup of tea, much to the bemusement of the grieving couple in front of them. Only Lucinda accepted the offer, but Lisbon knew that, while Jane would turn up again eventually with the tea in hand, it was his excuse to go and snoop. On many occasions, she had found herself questioning him over these searches, arguing that they were illegal as he didn’t have a warrant. Jane just countered it, stating that they had been welcomed into the home or business willingly, ergo, it just saved time and stress for all concerned. Besides, if he did find something pertinent, he could get a warrant later in order to seize anything he did find. Or, he could just ask nicely as that did work on rare occasions too.  
  
“Are you sure he’s a cop?” John asked dubiously. “He doesn’t behave like one.”  
  
“Agent Jane isn’t one for procedure, but his methods do work,” Lisbon assured them both. “His unit has one of the highest closed case records in the state.”  
  
“And where do you come into this?”  
  
“I…”  
  
“No, don’t tell me, I recognize you from somewhere,” Lucinda interrupted and she held up a hand. “You’re a psychic. I was going to try and hire you to sort out Edward’s troubles. I thought you’d be able to hypnotize him to stop him from taking drugs. But then, you disappeared and John insisted upon rehab instead.”  
  
“I used to be a psychic,” Lisbon replied cagily.  
  
“Used to be? Did your abilities just… turn off, or something?”  
  
“No. I never had them in the first place.”  
  
“Then how the hell did you do it?” Lucinda demanded.  
  
“I just pay attention.”  
  
“Just pay attention?” the woman echoed and crossed her arms. “A mad cop and a liar; are you sure you’re the best that California has to offer?”  
  
“I agree with my wife. Will you really be able to get justice for our son?”  
  
“We’ll try our best.”  
  
Lisbon glanced nervously over her shoulder, desperately waiting for Jane to reappear. When he did so, the tea he offered Lucinda went stonily ignored. Jane shrugged his shoulders and set about drinking his. It was one of the few little luxuries in life that he indulged in, and one that Lisbon occasionally shared with him too. Generally, she preferred coffee but that didn’t mean she couldn’t see the charms in a nice cup of tea occasionally too. As Jane drank, she carefully steered the conversation back into safer grounds. They needed to get as much out of these people as possible before they could move on and investigate further. Asking questions was why they had made the most formidable team in California, in spite of the skepticism of people like these.  
  
The rest of the interview was relatively mundane, covering all of the usual bases. Did they suspect anyone who could have murdered their son? The husband said no, of course not, aghast at the very idea. The wife, the skeptic, had immediately reeled off the names of people who had supplied him with drugs in the past, shady characters he had associated with who she had never liked and several more people besides. Lisbon got the impression she was a lonely woman; her paranoia drove away everyone apart from her patient and loving husband. They asked if there was anything he could have been hiding from them, any money troubles or the like. But, Jane was growing bored and she could sense that he believed they had gotten everything they could from Edward McKinnon’s parents. As a consequence, they bid them farewell and made their escape. Lisbon was glad for it; ever since the woman had found out that she had only ever masqueraded as a psychic, she could feel her sending daggers in her direction as time marched onwards.  
  
Once back in the car, they discussed what Jane had found in the home during his prowl. Nothing, he’d said and he sounded a little disappointed by it. Lisbon believed it was a good thing; if this murder was drugs related then it probably meant he wasn’t dealing and they were just trying to lure him back into their fold. It closed down a couple of avenues, even if it didn’t stop his mother from being paranoid. The autopsy would ultimately confirm it either way anyway, but Steiner’s report wasn’t due for another couple of hours at the very least. Then, there was Rigsby’s hunch. Lisbon genuinely hoped that something would come of it. After his earlier embarrassment, he certainly deserved a lucky break.  
  
As promised, she pulled off for something to eat. The diner was quaint, but clearly not particularly popular. However, she was hungry and felt like she couldn’t be picky. Besides, this was another one of her distractions for Jane. Not that it would distract him for long; the death of his brother would continually linger in his mind for a long while. Like his parents, he had to come to terms with it before he could truly box it away. And anyway, she couldn’t judge. She was hardly the poster girl for good mental health after bereavement. They took their seats quickly and made their order soon after. Her cellphone started ringing before lunch arrived, and Lisbon rolled her eyes. When she saw who was ringing her this time around, her spirits lightened. At least it wasn’t her father, yet again.  
  
“Hey Rigsby,” she said the moment she answered the call.  
  
“Lisbon, I-“  
  
Jane was motioning with his hands for something, and briefly, Lisbon furrowed her brow. It didn’t take long for her to figure out what he meant and as a consequence, she found herself cutting off Rigsby before he even had a chance to finish off his sentence.  
  
“Hang on a sec, Rigs. Jane wants to hear this too.”  
  
Lisbon put it on speakerphone and then placed the device on the table between them. She was glad that the place was practically deserted, even if it wasn’t good advertisement for the quality of the food. It gave them a little privacy for this conversation. A few seconds later, she encouraged him to go on and it was only then that Rigsby started talking about.  
  
“Hey you guys. I think I’ve got something,” he said, to very little surprise from either of them. “The bartender who was there today? He was actually fired for gross misconduct last week. Nobody knows why the hell he was there at all.”


	18. Chapter 18

For a while, the case had hit a stalling point. Their prime suspect - the fired bartender - Richard Lyons, had somewhat unsurprisingly decided to evade arrest. Jane was naturally convinced of his guilt: going on the run was never a good way to prove your innocence. Lisbon still felt uncomfortable about it though, even a week into the investigation. Lyons committing the crime on his own just didn't sit right with her. It seemed too simple, even if Jane’s hunch about it was a solid idea. Though she knew he was involved somehow, she couldn't help but think that the situation was more complicated than it appeared at face value. And despite her track record when it came to assisting in the closure of cases, the others were all too keen to shoot her theories down. Jane needed an easy win, and as a consequence, that was what the rest of the team hoped for as well. After all, one missing perpetrator was a heck of a lot easier to deal with than a network of them. At the moment, Rigsby was putting all of his efforts into tracking down Lyons as the rest of the team worked on following the other leads. Jane had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the case and it worried her. Although his brothers had taken charge of organizing the funeral and that was inevitably a weight off his mind, Jane still seemed to be living in denial about his brother's death. She couldn't blame him for that; the world always got that little bit darker once you started to truly comprehend the death of a loved one. That was something he understood due to the scars of his past, and wasn’t something he’d anticipated facing again so soon. Lisbon knew that he had always believed that he would have been the first to pass on of his siblings, mostly due to the virtue of his job.

Lisbon spent the morning working with Rigsby. Lyons had always been his lead and she knew that he was the key to busting open the rest of the case. They were trying to work out the man's social network, trying to see who would either help him with murder or at least, help him literally get away with it. In spite of working on it for a week, Rigsby hadn't gotten very far. Lyons had no living relatives to speak of, no girlfriend and seemingly, no friends either. The BOLO that was out on his car had proved to be useless; the car had been left on his driveway for the whole week. His house appeared to be deserted, but Judge Davis had been reluctant to give them a warrant to search the premises; insubstantial evidence, or so she had claimed. If the autopsy report had come back with evidence of recent drug use then maybe things would have been different. After all, they had at least been able to prove that Lyons was a current user during this frustratingly quiet week. But Lisbon knew the real reason for her reluctance: Jane was seen as a public menace and unfit to be a cop by those in the courthouse. They only accepted him grudgingly based on his second to none closed case record. But that didn't mean they were above trying to make it difficult for him to do things the legal way, though. Maybe if they had given him a little more rope, he would either have started to do things properly or hung himself by now.

That didn't help Rigsby in any way however. The reason that Lisbon had opted to help him now was to double check he hadn't missed anything and to make sure that he hadn't been looking at things in the wrong way. Lisbon sat at her desk, engrossed in the paperwork. Unlike many people, she actually quite enjoyed this aspect of the job. The methodology required made it a time to think more clearly, to focus on one task and look for the links. Besides, paper trails always provided them with rock solid evidence. Even more so if somebody tried to tamper with them, because that indicated that there was something to hide. The others avoided it because they reveled in the thrill of fieldwork. Lisbon understood that all aspects of police work meshed together in order for them to be able to not only close a case, but get it through the courts as well.

She ran a finger over the paperwork, frowning. There had to be something, one loose end for them to pick up on. Nobody was that clever, nobody could cover up their trails that well, not even her. It was no wonder that Rigsby had gotten so frustrated with his precious lead, causing Jane to focus on the other avenues and other cases. Every aspect just pointed towards it being a dead end, but Lisbon knew that people didn't just disappear off the face of the planet. Richard Lyons had to be somewhere. Besides, it felt like she was missing something, something obvious. She closed her eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to get rid of some of the tension she was carrying. Then, she opened them again and stared at the accounts form she had been looking at for the past half hour once again.

“Hey, Rigs?” she called.

Rigsby jerked his head away from his computer, and wheeled his chair around to look at her. Then he stood, closed the distance between them and hovered over her shoulder for a second. Wayne Rigsby was built like a tank, and although he was fiercely protective of people he cared about, he was genuinely a sweet guy. He just knew how to control the inner grizzly and that was what made Lisbon – and a certain Grace Van Pelt – feel safe around him.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“The money he’s been paying out. I presume it’s…”

“A dead end. It’s been deposited in an off-shore bank account in the Cayman Islands. I haven’t been able to work out who he’s been paying it to.”

“Where’s he getting the money from? Where is he paying it in from? Online or…?”

She looked at Rigsby pointedly and it was almost as if a light had switched on inside of him. He had spent the whole week trying to find out who owned the account rather than trying to track down Lyons himself. Though who it was going to was, of course, important to the case, getting hold of Lyons was even more so. After all, he had been present at the bowling alley. He had seen the body, all mangled up in the machinery. Lisbon shuddered; it had literally taken them hours to extract Edward McKinnon from that pin spotter. Despite his past misdeeds and his mother’s perception of him, the boy deserved justice. His killer had to be found. It must have required a heart of stone for somebody to leave him in such a mess, and leave those two women traumatized. Especially the girlfriend; from Jane’s reports, she was still struggling to come to terms with what had happened to Edward.

As Rigsby rushed back to his desk, Lisbon returned her attentions to the files in front of her. On paper, it should have been easy. Lyons was making regular payments to somebody, presumably, based on his medical reports his drugs dealer. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if the dealer had an off-shore bank account due to the legalities of his business. If Lyons owed them money – or was dealing on their behalf – then that would easily explain the regular payments. And if Edward had once been a user, and Lyons needed the additional money, it didn’t take much thought to consider the fact that Lyons was probably trying to make him crumble once more.

But then, why would he have traumatized the women instead of keeping it simple? During the interview with Bex and Renee, Lisbon had noticed Lyons’ eyes lingering on the brunette woman on more than one occasion. Maybe the drugs had just been an excuse to kill. Maybe he had wanted to be the knight in shining armor, swooping in to comfort Bex. But why had he run instead? Had he realized that she had noticed his reluctance to talk? Had he known that she had seen straight through his lies during that ten minute interview they had shared? If he had been high at the time, then it was entirely likely that he had grown paranoid, hence the fact he had fled and somehow managed to disappear for a whole week.

“Lisbon?” Rigsby’s voice cut through her thoughts once again. “You were right.”

“Okay. We should get moving then?” she asked.

He didn’t need to answer; Rigsby had already picked up his gun and handcuffs. Clearly, he was eager to get on the move, and he also wanted her company as he made this bust. She smiled briefly as he clarified his breakthrough while they headed towards Jane’s office. Lyons had been depositing all his money at one bank. He went there every other day at 3.30pm exactly to do this. Just after the morning and lunch rush, but before the evening crowds had a chance to descend. It was quiet enough to carry out his business, then. Lisbon glanced at the clock; it was already 2.30pm and thus, they had no time to lose. After a brief meeting with their illustrious boss to tell him what they were doing, they were both ready to make their way to the bank. She had half hoped that Jane would come with them, if only to get him out of the confines of the office. However, he had insisted that whatever he was doing was infinitely more important. To her, it looked distinctly like relaxing on his couch, but the whole team had long since accepted that there was a method to his madness. Even Van Pelt had adjusted to this little fact by now. But that didn’t change the fact that Lisbon wanted him out of there, and to stop brooding. The funeral in the morning was plaguing on her mind too, and she knew it would be so much worse for him. However, distraction therapy had been working up until this point and Lisbon had been keen to continue with it. Jane, meanwhile, wasn’t playing ball and grown increasingly stubborn. Lisbon knew when not to put up a fight and this was one of those occasions.

An hour later, Lisbon found herself deeply regretting not being more forceful with Jane. She knew she wasn’t the boss, and she did respect Jane’s authority, but really, they needed him here right now. There was absolutely no way that she was qualified to be in this position. Lisbon felt ill-equipped; even her experience with guns was next to useless as she was currently unarmed. And besides, she hadn’t had the years of training in order to provide adequate backup to a cop and it showed. She trembled as a man dressed in a slick black suit approached her. He was unarmed; she could tell by the distinct lack of bumps in his suit, but that wasn’t enough to stop him from being highly dangerous. Lisbon was certain that he could do more than enough damage with his bare hands alone.

She wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but somehow, the moment they had tried to arrest Lyons, they had been swamped with people and suddenly kidnapped. When they had entered the bank, she’d had an uneasy feeling and sent a group message to Cho, Van Pelt and Jane. She’d sent them another when they had reached this warehouse and then, her cellphone had been confiscated. All she could do now was hope that one of them would get the message and come to their rescue. She didn’t much like being the proverbial damsel in distress, but what else could she do? Rigsby had been separated from her and she dreaded to imagine what was happening to him. Damn it, she should have known that Lyons was involved in some dangerous business when they realized just how untraceable his drugs dealer was. This was the kind of empire which narcotics specialized in, while they dealt purely with homicide. Just because she had occasionally offered her services to other units, it didn’t necessarily mean she was au fait with their method of operations.

“So, what’s a pretty little lady like you hanging around with the cops for, huh?” the man snarled as he approached her. “You shouldn’t be messing around with things you can’t handle.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Please, don’t treat me like a fool. If you knew what you were doing, you wouldn’t be here now, would you?”

“No,” she conceded and cocked her head slightly to one side. “But, like you, I’m not the one in charge. I was just following orders.”

It was strange just how little it took to tip a big guy like this over the edge. In a mass of fury, he lunged at her, but Lisbon managed to take a side-step out of the way. However, she couldn’t evade him all day. Despite his stature, the man was surprisingly light on his feet. Eventually, those strong fingers she’d spent a moment to acknowledge made their way around her neck. Briefly, she felt nervous, but Lisbon wasn’t inclined to feel scared, even during an hour of need. The carnival lifestyle was essentially like living on the run; she had to be hyperaware at all times. However, that didn’t mean she was above feigning fear. This man liked to display power and physical prowess. He wanted to show her that he was in charge, and that he could kill her with his bare hands if he chose to do so. The fear in her eyes was something that he needed to see in order to feel like he was doing his ‘job’ right.

But Lisbon knew she could get out of this anyway. The elbows were a weak point in the body. God’s design had weaknesses – or flaws – depending on how you looked at it. That was merely something that she could take to her advantage. It meant that there was always a way to escape, and always a method that could be used to turn the tables. In just one second, Lisbon turned her head slightly and the fingers that had a seemingly cast-iron grip around her neck immediately loosened. Moments later, she used her hand like a knife and cut down into the elbow joint. Unable to resist, her assailant’s elbow joint bent and her neck was free. His knees buckled, not due to the pressure she had applied, but the sheer surprise of it all. He stumbled slightly in attempt to stop himself from falling to the floor. Lisbon automatically pulled a fist and stared at him warningly. She knew where to aim if she really wanted to knock him unconscious. But, she didn’t need to use it. Just in the nick of time, the door flew open and Jane – and his gun – came rushing through. She was pleased to see him naturally, but Lisbon knew that she would have appreciated it if he had decided to turn up just a little bit earlier. Then, she wouldn’t have had a sore neck nor would she have felt like her heart was trying to escape from her chest.

“Nice moves,” Jane said admiringly as he whipped out his handcuffs. “I didn’t know that you’d studied martial arts.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Lisbon replied coyly. She didn’t actually know much about self-defense, even if she had taken a couple of lessons. But, something had stuck and she was grateful for it, she considered as she massaged her neck. Jane didn’t need to know that, of course.

“Really?” Jane asked with a grin. “I’d like to know more.”

“Ah, but a girl has gotta have her-“

She was unable to reach the end of her sentence. A gunshot rattled through the warehouse and Jane begged her to go investigate further while he dealt with their first arrested man. Lisbon sent him a pleading look; she had already felt out of her depth more than enough for one day, but she understood the necessity. It was her opinion that he trusted above all others. He needed to know whether or not Cho was responsible for the shot, or if one of his team had been injured. That was when the real fear set in; it had been her assistance in the lead that had brought them to this place. If any one of them got hurt, then as far as she was concerned, it was solely her fault.

When she finally reached the room the others were located in, she was relieved to see that it was Van Pelt who was holding the smoking gun. The rookie looked more than a little shocked at what she had had to do, and with shaking hands, she replaced her gun in its holster. Across the other side of the room, Lyons was laying on the floor, clutching at his shoulder. He was still alive, but was lucky that Van Pelt’s shot hadn’t been a few millimeters closer to his heart. Of course, he still needed major medical attention, but Lisbon couldn’t muster much sympathy for him at that moment in time. Rigsby was unconscious, tied up and had been beaten black and blue. Cho kept shooting nervous glances at him as he arrested the other man, presumably, the one who had been responsible for Rigsby’s current condition.

After replacing her gun, Van Pelt drew out her cellphone but Lisbon took it away from her. The youngest member of the team had a more important role to play. Lisbon knew that she could take care of hailing medical attention for both the injured men in this building.

“Go to him,” she murmured and the redhead nodded.

Lisbon knew that Rigsby and Van Pelt were dancing on the edge of a relationship. Of course, the rules forbade it, but that didn’t stop the underlying attraction. As much as they tried to pretend otherwise, Van Pelt needed to stand by her man. Lisbon hated the fact she was encouraging them to break the rules by doing this, but human empathy meant she had to do it. Besides, it wasn’t her place to forbid them from acknowledging their feelings anyway. She was just the consultant and they were two young people in the first flushes of love. All she could do was convince them to be careful at a later date.

They were all incredibly busy for the rest of the afternoon. With one member down, and three people to interview, everyone was rushed off of their feet. By the end of the day, Lisbon felt like all of her muscles ached and that wasn’t entirely surprising. What was was just how easily they managed to get confessions for the Edward McKinnon murder. Lyons had been responsible, and he had been driven by three motives: love, money and revenge. It was practically the perfect trifecta for motives for murder. He wanted Edward’s money, but he also wanted his girlfriend. Like herself, Lyons was much stronger than he looked. The surveillance tapes confirmed that he did affix the dead body into the pin spotter at the bowling alley on his own. He had wanted to be the one to comfort Bex after finding the body, but Renee had gotten in the way. And before he had a chance to really talk to her, even in an inebriated state, he had been shooed away by the manager. He wasn’t meant to be there; he’d lost his job at the alley just over a week ago.

The mess with the drugs dealers came in easily. Lyons had been indebted to them for years; because of this specific gang’s way of dealing with interest, he would never have been cleared of his debt. He had been stealing profits from the bowling alley in order to pay off his dealer, but it had never been enough. Edward had been the one to spot him doing so, the one to report him to the manager. Edward, having been clean since he had found himself in the job, had felt morally obliged to report it. And thus, the third motive fit into place. Now, the only question that was hanging over their heads was why the bowling alley had never pressed charges against Lyons for the theft. But that was something that Jane was confident they would get an answer to by morning. As far as he was concerned, the case was essentially closed and they were free to go home.

But, that didn’t stop her from lingering in the offices for just a little while longer. She filled in her fair share of paperwork at the table in Jane’s office as he, unusually, sat at his desk. Eventually, he realized that she was stalling and took matters into his own hands.  
“Don’t you have a father to get home to?”

“Shouldn’t you be thinking about leaving too?” she countered.

“That’s not an answer.”

“I know.”

Lisbon didn’t want to go home for precisely that reason. She dreaded seeing her father again; she doubted he would appreciate the fact that he had been unable to contact her directly for hours now. Her cellphone had been destroyed by their captors and although the CBI had promised to replace it in due course, this would make her father believe all kinds of irrational thoughts about her.

“Lisbon, I’ll go home if you do,” Jane said quietly.

“Resorting to bribery, Agent Jane?”

“If it works, I don’t care.”

“Fine,” she acquiesced.

They bid farewell to each other in the parking lot. As she drove that lonely drive back home, Lisbon found herself growing increasingly uneasy. It was funny really, though there had been moments of sheer panic throughout the day, this was the thing that really worried her. Every day, her father was a little bit better. His physiotherapist was encouraging him to get out of the house more and more, to try and grow more independent once again. Much to her surprise, Jason Hamilton was taking this advice deathly seriously and had been trying his hardest to recuperate. It wasn’t enough to stop him from bothering her on an hourly basis though, but it was at least something.

She tried to slip in the house as quietly as possible, but her dad was sitting on her couch and drumming his fingers impatiently against the arm rest. He glared at her, but she ignored him until she had slipped off her work jacket and placed her belongings on the side table. Then, she turned to face him and smiled slightly. It immediately fell when he didn’t bother to return it. Lisbon gave him the quick once over. His arm was in its sling and the look in his eyes suggested that he was still in a lot of pain and had resorted to painkillers to control it. And, of course, he was fuming at the fact that she hadn’t been in contact with him throughout the afternoon.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“Oh, good evening Dad. I’m fine thank you, work was busy, like usual. Thanks for asking,” she snapped back sarcastically.

“And your phone?” he persisted.

“Oh, it was destroyed by a drugs dealer after I was kidnapped.”

“You were what?” he asked, incredulous and the anger disappeared in an instant. Even her flippant tone wasn’t enough to temper the blow. “No, don’t tell me. Explain over dinner, you must be starving.”  
The sudden shift in his mood surprised her. But it was easy for her to understand; the realization that he could have lost her today had taken him off-guard. And it was… nice of him to spend the time preparing her dinner. As a consequence, she decided to accept his offer of an olive branch as such and did tell him as much as she could about the day’s events. It felt surreal, being domestic with her father, but it was surprisingly nice to be able to get it all off of her chest. However, a small part of her mind couldn’t help but question what his real motives were. He never did anything unless there was something he could get in return.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked as he cleared the plates away.

“Work,” she answered stiffly. This was what she had been suspicious of; this was what he wanted to know, to use and abuse.

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m not.”

“Please, Teresa, don’t treat me like a mark. I’m no fool,” Jason answered back and he took a step towards her. “You’re my daughter and I taught you everything you know.”

“That doesn’t mean you know everything about me.”

“No,” he conceded, “but I can read you like an open book. So, what are you really doing in the morning?”

Lisbon glanced away. As far as she was concerned, it wasn’t any of his business. Yes, she had welcomed him into her home, but it hadn’t been entirely willingly. She knew that he needed her, that she was all he had left, but this was exactly what she had feared. He was trying to take control of every aspect of her life once again and she desperately wanted to keep him out of it. Even though he hated it, she didn’t need him anymore. In truth, she hadn’t really needed him since she and Andrew had first left the carnival together. But somehow, he continually wormed himself back into her life, like a snake. She just couldn’t shake him away.

“I’m going to a funeral.”

“Whose?” he asked and he stared at her pointedly. Lisbon could feel his eyes boring into her very soul and she hated it. There was no point in lying to him; he would only work it out in the end.

“Edward Jane’s,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Jane… brother of your boss?” he asked, piecing together the scant things she had told him about her daily routine.

“Yes,” she answered back bluntly.

“Why?”

“Because he needs a friend to be there with him,” Lisbon said and she genuinely believed that.

“No, that’s not it, I can see it in your eyes,” he replied, shaking his head sadly. “You may still wear the wedding ring of your sadly deceased husband, but you’re a little bit in love with Patrick Jane, aren’t you?”

“No,” she denied quickly.

“No, you’re right. You are in love with him. You’re just too foolish to admit it even to yourself.”


	19. Chapter 19

"You look stressed," Jane remarked when he answered the door to Lisbon. That was the way their relationship stood now, and it had done ever since he had spent that time living with her. There was no need for them to indulge in formalities; they just got straight down to business. Besides, they both knew each other so well that there was no need for them to waste time with words. Jane knew that nobody had known him quite as well as Teresa Lisbon, and he secretly relished in the emotional intimacy. Still, despite this being the day he was saying goodbye to his brother, he couldn’t help but be more than a little concerned for her. After all, it was rare that he saw his consultant looking quite so harried; usually she was fairly good at keeping her emotions under check.  
  
"I'm fine," she answered back, unsurprisingly ignoring his comment on her appearance. "You okay?"  
  
Jane nodded and stood to one side to let her into his apartment. Lisbon quietly said her thanks and together, they headed towards the kitchen, much like they always did whenever she found an excuse to visit him. And as always, she had the decency not to comment on the state of his new home; it was barely furnished and hardly anything indicated that it was actually lived in. Even the few boxes of possessions he owned were still firmly packed away. He said he didn’t have time to do it, but in reality, it was probably more a fear of giving himself some proper roots to live by. Still, Jane could acknowledge that a small part of himself liked that he had somewhere to truly call home. This, in theory, could become his own little sanctuary and escape from the world. Jane had noticed how at peace Lisbon had appeared in her home, and maybe, this was his chance to emulate that. And if nothing else, it was a step up from a long-stay motel room, if only just. In silence, Jane prepared them each a cup of tea. This situation felt awkward and he was beginning to regret requesting her company for the funeral once again. It was a burden she didn't need, especially when she had to contend with her father. Anyone who knew Lisbon knew that their relationship was fractious. He could read it in her eyes.  
  
"What time is the funeral?" Lisbon asked as they took a seat in his lounge.  
  
"11,” he replied quietly. “We'll be picked up in half an hour."  
  
"Okay."  
  
He let out a ragged sigh. Over the past week or so, he had been pretending that this day wouldn't happen. He just couldn't deal with the idea that his sweet younger brother had died and his body stashed in a morgue, on ice, for the past week. It felt foreign, wrong. The only time he was meant to deal with places like that was when he had to view a body or autopsy of a murder victim to assist with a case. The very thought of Edward being in the same place still felt inconceivable and unnatural. But all too soon, the day of the funeral had been thrust upon him so he had to face the stark reality of it all. His brother was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. He hadn’t moved onto a better place as some people liked to believe; his life was simply over. It was a natural process of life, but that wasn’t enough to stop it from hurting like hell, though.  
  
In some ways, Jane was still grateful he had something tangible to cling onto for the cause of death. Cancer was a word that had thought and meaning. While it was devastating, people understood and dealt with it accordingly. Edward had received appropriate treatment for his condition, but it simply hadn’t been enough to save his life. His death wasn't senseless and pointless, like the homicides that Jane had spent his life solving. He understood the pain and terror of not having those answers, for not knowing the reason why a love one’s life had come to an end. Jane still didn't know who was responsible for his mom's death, how they had fled from the car crash alive even before the authorities made it onto the scene and how they couldn't have had the conscience to turn themselves in. The injustice of the world weighed heavily on his shoulders; it was why, sometimes, he believed that death row was too good for some criminals. They tore people's lives apart and did irreparable damage. What good was killing them in return in the name of justice? If the person in question did have some sort of conscience, then it merely cut short the guilt. And if they didn’t, then death row simply cleared space for more criminals to fill their place. Ultimately, life rolled on whether or not somebody got their ‘justice’ or ‘punishment’ or not. It didn’t really make a difference in the scheme of things. The Jane family was evidence enough of that.  
  
His mind strayed promptly back to Lisbon when she reached out and allowed her fingertips to graze against his thighs. She smiled softly and he wondered, not for the first time, just how she could be so level-headed after such tragedy. Unlike so many people who lost it after the murder of a loved one, she seemed so controlled. She didn't want to kill Red John with her bare hands, nor did she break down any time he killed again. Of course, if the serial killer murdered somebody and slipped through their fingers, she showed signs of stress and frustration, but that was entirely human. What she didn't do was vow to take things too far. She was always the epitome of patience and calm. But, her father did press her buttons wrong. Even Jane wasn't capable of getting under her skin in the same way. He couldn't help but wonder what had caused her to be so stressed this morning, whether they had argued or he had done something else. Jane trusted her to talk if she needed to, but she also had a habit of bottling things up. That always made things that little more difficult.  
  
"How do you do it?" Jane suddenly asked, ignoring the rapidly cooling tea in his hands. He wasn't quite sure what made him ask, but he felt the desperate need to do so. After all, the question had been burning in his mind for such a long while now.  
  
"Do what?" she asked. For once, he had her confused and Jane didn't know whether to feel proud of finally being able to do it or ashamed at what he was doing. But some parts of Teresa Lisbon remained completely and utterly confusing to him and Jane couldn't help but be intrigued. After all, she was such a fascinating person anyway.  
  
"Be so calm in the face of adversity. You've been through so much and yet here you are, absolutely fine."  
  
“Haven’t we had this conversation before?” Lisbon asked with a wry smile.  
  
“It’s my brother’s funeral today. Humor me.”  
  
She laughed a hollow sort of a laugh. "Believe me, I'm not fine Jane. I just look like I can cope."  
  
"I don't believe you."  
  
"It's the truth. If you had seen me two years ago, you'd have found me unrecognizable."  
  
Jane looked at her somewhat skeptically. The sun was illuminating her features; her pale skin contrasting perfectly with her dark hair. Piercing green eyes stared back at him and all he could think was just how beautiful she looked in that instant. She wasn't smiling, she just looked pensive but that didn't matter. Jane swallowed. He wasn't meant to be having thoughts like that about his consultant. And besides, the timing was all wrong. They were about to attend a funeral; he was about to honor his deceased brother after his death. Instead, he had found himself thinking about Teresa Lisbon and what she meant to him.  
  
"Oh really?" Jane said, gently teasing her and trying to rid his mind of inappropriate thoughts as a consequence.  
  
Briefly, she looked as though she was considering what her next response should be. Jane couldn't imagine her being anything but like what she was at this minute. Even when she first joined the CBI and was assigned to his unit, she had been completely professional and almost too sensible. It was only because he vaguely remembered her practicing as a psychic that he believed she was indeed the wife and mother of Andrew and Eva Lisbon respectively. In the silence of many long and lonely nights, Jane researched the woman. He had to have a lot of respect for her; she could do things that he could only dream of. Unfortunately, the interception of the serial killer Red John had entirely stunted her creativity. It was like she was scared to do anything now for fear of the repercussions. Of course, that meant she was easily controllable but sometimes, he wished she displayed herself in the way that she used to.  
  
"Yes, really,” she asserted and momentarily, he was stunned by just how forceful her words were. “Besides, a woman has gotta keep a few secrets, hasn't she?"  
  
"Hmm that sounds like a challenge to me." Jane smiled broadly; it was the first true smile he had dared to do all day. The depression and sense of foreboding of what was to come had left him feeling low. And this was precisely why he needed her company far more than he needed Tommy's or Daniel's.  
  
Lisbon raised an eyebrow slightly in response to his statement. "Well, it is if you want it to be."  
  
"I'll work you out yet, Teresa. Just you wait."  
  
"We'll..." she started but stopped at the abrupt knock at the door.  
  
Jane was the one who ended up getting up to answer it. As expected, they were being picked up to go to the funeral itself. He shivered slightly. It was a blazing hot day and yet, he felt as though he might as well have been sitting in a freezer.  
  
"Shall we?" Lisbon asked, breaking his reverie.  
  
Before doing anything else, he swept her up into a tight hug. As she usually was in this kind of situation, she was initially reluctant to return the gentle embrace. Eventually, she settled into it and responded tentatively. The feel of her hand against the small of his back was immediately warming and Jane wished that they could stay like this forever.  
  
"Thank you," he whispered.  
  
"It's nothing," she replied, and although he knew he wouldn't be able to correct her, he also knew she was entirely wrong. This wasn't ‘nothing’ to worry about; it was above and beyond the call of duty.  
  
They traveled to the funeral in silence and Lisbon didn't leave his side, not for an instant. The moment that Jane saw his brothers, he could feel their judging eyes on him. This was the first time they had met Lisbon although he had spoken of her - and always in an admiring tone - on more than one occasion. Without introduction, they both figured out who she was before she even had the chance to say hello to them. Jane also knew that they both believed that she shouldn't have been there at all. Although both Tommy and Daniel had expressed an interest in meeting the famous Teresa Lisbon, it was clear that they believed that the timing was completely wrong. They thought she was intruding on their grief rather than doing anything of benefit to any of them. He hadn't warned them that he was bringing her; he knew they would object, hence his evasive behavior around the subject prior to the event. Later, he would try and explain to them how and why her presence was necessary for him. For now, they would merely have to deal with their internalized rage. Jane was convinced that they would get over it eventually anyway.  
  
The funeral itself was a beautiful affair. Daniel had done an exceptional job at organizing it and Jane couldn't have found fault, even if he had wanted to. It was held at the Catholic Church which Edward had attended before his terrible disease had prevented him from doing so. Even in his darkest hours, he had clung onto his faith; something which Jane couldn't quite wrap his head around. But then, Edward hadn't been quite so emotionally scarred by the loss of their parents as Jane had been. And where Jane had renounced all faith, Edward had only submersed himself further into it. He didn't judge him for it - how could he? - but that didn't stop him from questioning why they had reacted so differently in the wake of tragedy. After all, they were both products of the exact same upbringing and all four siblings had been forced to endure the father's wrath for in excess of two years. Although being in a church felt a little uncomfortable for Jane, he could appreciate that it was appropriate for his deceased brother. That was one of the very few reasons that Jane had been capable of biting on his tongue and not commenting on the overtly religious aspects of the ceremony. It was one of the last few things that Jane could do to respect the memory of Edward.  
  
The sheer size of the congregation surprised Jane too; much of their family had been able to make it, along with numerous friends of Edward's, many of whom Jane didn't know. It didn't matter that they were flung far and wide across the length and breadth of the USA, they had all made the concerted effort to attend. Lisbon sat quietly beside him, allowing him to cling onto her hand as if his life depended upon it. She didn't complain once, just like usual; she always knew precisely what he needed. Nobody asked who Lisbon was, though several people sent curious glances in their direction. Jane assumed that they believed the chronically single Patrick Jane had finally found a beautiful woman - a soul mate - to settle down with and not before time, either. And for now, Jane didn't even care what they assumed about the pair of them. His relationship with his consultant was his own business and they could come to all the incorrect conclusions they liked. All he could do was hope that _she_ didn't feel too uncomfortable by it all. That was the only thing of concern for him; after all, he was the one to thrust her into this predicament.  
  
Typically, the wake was when the trouble began. Tommy started to kick off about Lisbon's presence and even the fact that his 14 year old daughter, Annabeth, was utterly mortified wasn't enough to stop the youngest Jane sibling from speaking his mind. Even though they were eventually capable of smoothing things over for now, Jane was humiliated. It was not for himself, but for Lisbon instead. She insisted she was fine and that she understood the behavior, but he couldn't entirely believe her. Even if she was telling the truth, he was more than content with feeling like this on her behalf anyhow. For the first time, he was beginning to regret his decision to bring her along; he should have been man enough to be able to handle something as routine as a funeral without a personal babysitter. But then, even at work, Minelli regularly implied that Lisbon had had a calming influence on him and that her role within the unit was sometimes reduced to reining him in. It didn't seem to bother either of them; almost as soon as she was assigned to the unit they had naturally fallen into their assigned roles. He watched as she entertained Annabeth with a simple card trick or two. Sometimes, he wished he could offer her more as a lead agent and a friend. But, Patrick Jane had always been a broken man and there wasn't much he seemed capable of doing about that. Doctors offered all manners of diagnoses, but he just didn't take them seriously.  It wasn't that he disrespected their skills and training; he was just inherently a bad patient.  That was yet another thing he had inherited from his father. Sometimes, it scared him just how much that he resembled the monster that man had become when he looked in the mirror. And more than that; Jane knew that they were very similar people on the inside as well. Some people said that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Therefore, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was really completely in denial about their similarities or apparent lack thereof when it came to personality.  
  
"Hey," Lisbon whispered softly when she had finished with Annabeth. "I missed a couple of calls from Cho. I'm just going to see what he wants and then I'll be straight back."  
  
"Hmm, it might be important, “Jane conceded. It irked him a little that Cho hadn't been ringing him, but he also knew why they had made the decision to only bother him personally in an utter emergency. But, he was the boss, ergo, Jane always felt like it was his right to know first.  
  
"Yeah. Hopefully not though," she agreed as she started to dial Cho’s number. “It’s likely to be nothing. He probably just wants some advice on trance states or something.”  
  
"Let me know anyway?"  
  
"Would I even dare do anything but?" she answered back with a smirk.  
  
Jane shook his head, but of course he knew she would tell him if she absolutely needed to. However, the problem was that he knew she had a tendency of being overprotective. He didn't want her to avoid informing him of something simply because it was a difficult moment in time for him. After all, they had been in situations like this before; by default, his job just wasn't an easy one. Killers didn't work on a schedule, and especially not one that suited the cops who specialized in homicide investigations the best. By hiding things from him, even for what was perceived as being the right reasons, it would inevitably only do more harm than good. Lisbon especially had a tendency to be evasive with information whenever she thought it best; it was clear that she had once been a mother. And of course, he appreciated that she had his best interests at heart, but it had been such a long while since he had last had to deal with a mother-like figure. Readjusting to such a relationship was difficult at the best of times and besides, their relationship had been far more complicated than that from the offset.  
  
Over the past year and a half he had spent working with Lisbon, Jane had slowly found her taking up an increasing amount of his thoughts as a consequence. Initially, he had told himself it was only natural; they worked long hours together in a confined space. When exposed to such a working relationship, people stopped thinking of their coworkers as friends and acquaintances, and began to think of them as a surrogate family. He rationalized it as being something of a necessity for his consultant; barring her father and the complex relationship that they shared, she had nobody else in the world watching her back. The team provided her with the emotional support that she had never known she needed and couldn’t get from anywhere else. And as long as she needed him, Jane was more than happy to fight for her. At least, that was what he told himself. Jane was simply too scared to think of any alternative.  
  
When she wound herself back through the crowds of people talking animatedly and reminiscing about his younger brother, Lisbon looked incredibly harried.  It didn't take a mind reader to figure out that something bad had happened. Going by the shake of her hand as she slipped her cellphone back in her jacket pocket and the frown between her eyebrows, Jane easily whittled it down to two scenarios.  Naturally, they were either Red John or something to do with her father. On every other occasion, it had always boiled down to one of those two issues with her. She rarely confided in other people about other problems; Lisbon had always preferred to keep them to herself. He closed the distance between them, not even bothering to apologize to his ancient aunt who had somehow managed to make her way to Sacramento all the way from Chicago. The poor old woman had merely tried to strike up a conversation with her eldest nephew, but he obviously had far more important things to worry about at that specific moment in time. Lisbon didn't say a word when he approached, but Jane didn't need her to. The issue definitely wasn't her father; she would have already excused herself before he’d had a chance to speak if it was. As much as he knew she was here purely to lift his spirits, if something more important cropped up, then she would have had to leave. This, obviously, required the attentions of the pair of them rather than solely her.  
  
"Red John?" Jane asked quietly and she nodded in response.  
  
"It was called in half an hour ago. Cho only realized it was him when they arrived at the scene of the crime."  
  
Jane's heart sank. He had to leave his own family's loss and heartbreak only to go and inflict it on another. And worse, as it was Red John, he couldn't help but feel cynical about the hope of offering this new family some sort of justice. If people stopped killing one another, he would be out of a job, but the world would become a far safer place to live. More than anything, the timing was what made him feel all the worse. Red John had been eerily quiet for almost three months now, an unsettling reprieve of sorts, and coincidentally, it had been since Lisbon's father had had his accident. Jane couldn't help but momentarily question it; it was almost as though the serial killer had known that Lisbon and the team were getting over one disaster and he thought they should replace it with another. At least Rigsby's stay in hospital had been short-lived, even though he had some killer bruises left to tell the tale.  
But, that didn't change the fact that they had to leave and right at this very moment. Even though he wasn't willing to admit to it, not for an instant, a small part of Jane was grateful for the excuse to leave early.  It got them both away from this unbearable storm which was brewing.  
  
Once again, they traveled in silence and again, the silence was pregnant with thought. This time, however, it was for very different reasons.  Jane wished this nightmare was over. Red John had been terrifying the state of California for too long now. Each time that somebody else died at his knife, Jane found himself questioning his techniques and wondering if it was that which meant he had failed at apprehending (or preferably,  killing) Red John.  Then, he merely wondered if the killer was just far too clever for any one of them to catch up with him. That thought only served to depress him further.  
  
When they arrived at the crime scene, Lisbon remained stubbornly silent and Jane didn't even bother trying to coax her back out of her shell. He had spent far too long working with her to not be aware that this was her coping mechanism in situations such as these. The place was already crawling with forensics, LEOs and the like. Behind the yellow tape, a small group of civilians peered over excitedly, desperate to find out that little more gossip about whatever the heck was going on. Schadenfreude: happiness at the misfortune of others. Crime scenes always managed to attract this ilk. It made him feel a little ill in some ways, but however he looked at it, Jane knew that the intrigue was still human nature. Regardless, he ignored them all and made a beeline straight for the coroner. He, after all, was the one who would know the most about what they were to face.  
  
The deceased was a blonde woman in her late twenties or early thirties.  She was dressed well in a beige wrap cardigan, now ruined by the slashes and blood stains. Her body positioned underneath the perfect Red John smiley face confirmed that it was highly unlikely to be a copycat, as he was almost hoping as they headed towards this house. While walking in, Jane had already spotted a graduation photograph and a couple of books on psychiatry. This woman, he figured, without even knowing her identity, was a shrink. Jane smiled grimly. Lisbon's abilities were obviously rubbing off on him. Lisbon herself didn't appear to be paying much attention at all and Jane immediately knew that something was wrong.  
  
"You know her," he whispered before the others came to interrupt them.  
  
"Her name is Sophie Miller," Lisbon answered, almost blandly. "Yes, I knew her, once."


	20. Chapter 20

"Right, and now I want to know what your real relationship with Dr. Miller is," Jane said firmly.  
  
They had finally found themselves in the privacy of his office and both the door and blinds were firmly shut. The rest of the team knew that under no circumstances were they to disturb them, at least for approximately ten minutes. Jane wouldn't have had it any other way. Occasionally, people accused him of being somewhat tactless when it came to dealing with others, but that treatment never extended to Teresa Lisbon. Jane knew that despite her apparently tough exterior, she was really quite fragile underneath it all. After what had happened to herself and her family, that was highly understandable. The current Red John case (and the addition of a few lingering open ends from the murder house) were enough to take her to her very limits. Jane knew that this conversation could push her over the crumbling edge and that was the very last thing that he wanted. But still, he needed to know what Lisbon's relationship with this doctor was in order to get a full scope of the case and how the woman related to the serial killer's other victims.  
  
Red John ordinarily did have a type and Sophie did fit in the pattern to a certain extent. Most of the time, his victims were young women in their twenties and thirties, who had everything to live for. Usually, they had also just experienced a bright turning point in their lives which meant they were truly being cut down in their prime. In Sophie's case, she had just transferred from clinical practice into research, dealing with exciting developments in brain and morality research. Occasionally, he broke M.O., in either petty revenge or to teach somebody else a lesson. Lisbon's family was the prime example of the latter, though not the only occasion for it to have happened. So, the fact that Sophie was known by one of them - and especially Lisbon - was a cause for concern. If Red John was changing his pattern, then he was only going to get more dangerous. But equally, Jane knew that this could easily end up marking the prime opportunity to work out who the serial killer was and deal with him accordingly. However reluctant she was to talk, Lisbon had to. He hoped she understood the necessity, but then, she usually did. And he hoped that she trusted him to make the right decision and to treat her revelation with the dignity it required; that was what was important right now.  
"She was my doctor," Lisbon eventually answered, somewhat cagily. He could tell that she loathed the situation they found themselves in, but there was nothing that either of them could do about that.  
  
"She was a psychiatrist. You hate psychiatrists."  
  
Lisbon shrugged. "So do you."  
  
"Teresa..."  
  
"Sophie Miller was a good psychiatrist. I... trusted her."  
  
"I doubt she would have been able to keep you in the room otherwise."  
  
"It was a locked room."  
  
"Oh," he replied. Uncharacteristically, his voice was small and indistinct. While it wasn’t a surprise that Lisbon had seen a shrink after her husband and daughter had been killed, the fact that she hadn’t had any choice in the matter was. It immediately shattered any illusions he may have had about her being mentally strong, almost to the extent of being superhuman. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing per se, but that didn’t mean it was an easy mental adjustment for him to make.  
  
"I'm not ashamed of my previous health issues," Lisbon answered quickly, but Jane couldn't help but wonder just how much of it was truly left in the past. "I just don't like everyone knowing about it; it doesn't define who I am today."  
  
Just a few hours earlier, Lisbon had told him that he would have found her unrecognizable a couple of years ago. This was exactly what she had meant at the time and neither of them had expected him to discover it so soon. She had fought tooth and nail to protect this secret from her past, had even gone as far as getting Minelli - or even Director Bertram - to obliterate the information from her CBI personnel records. Despite his initial shock and discomfort at the revelation, Jane could not judge her for her stint in a mental institution; if anything, it only served to help him understand the mystery hidden in an enigma that was Ms. Teresa Lisbon. He had genuinely wondered why she had been able to reflect on her husband and daughter's murders so rationally and that was precisely why. She wouldn't have gotten to where she was today without the help of Sophie Miller. Even so, he could still have believed she was capable of doing it on her own, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that she hadn’t. In the long run, the mandatory assistance of a trained professional had probably made the recovery process a hell of a lot easier for her to deal with. Even so, Jane couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason why the psychiatrist had ultimately lost her life to a murderer. Beyond the recent promotion and Sophie Miller being of the type that Red John specialized in, it did fit as an explanation for why she was targeted. After all, Red John did everything for a reason.  
  
That was the other major issue that came to light with this revelation. Lisbon had always been deliberately coy about why she had chosen to dedicate her life to the CBI since her family's murders. Usually, they wouldn't even dream of letting relatives work on cases or even in the building for extended periods of time; technically, they were victims too. Just because they were alive, it didn't stop them from suffering. In some ways, Jane truly believed that they were in more of a state than the victim themselves. After all, once somebody was dead, their life was over and nothing more could be done for them. The relatives and friends were the ones who had the burden to deal with. It was a pain that everybody experienced at some point in their lives, everyone was touched by loss. However, it was always all the more painful if that loved one was stolen away by somebody else. Then, more than ever, people craved for answers they weren't necessarily able to get.  
  
"And what about Red John?" he asked somewhat tentatively. The words felt like they were sticking in the back of his throat. Jane was distinctly aware of a lump forming in the base of his throat. He dreaded the answer and how it could potentially change their working relationship. After all, it had always seemed too good to be true that she was working with them solely for the most honorable of reasons. If he were in her shoes, Jane knew that he would be out for blood. Heck, he was still spending hours of his time wondering precisely what had happened to the man who had ran over his mother and not even bothered to stop by the dying woman’s side. If he had the opportunity to deal with that person, then they wouldn’t stand a chance after Jane had finished with them. He clenched his fists and let out a measured sigh. Frustrations of the past never got him anywhere, but that had been his defining story. Just like Red John was for Teresa Lisbon.  
  
"I mean what I've always said; Red John needs to be tried in a court of law. Only then will he be truly held accountable for every single crime that he has committed."  
  
Sometimes, the way that Lisbon spoke still had a tendency to surprise Jane. She often reacted to crime in a similar way to cops that had fifteen to twenty years of service under their belts. It always took him a brief second to remind himself that she was just a consultant and not a cop at all. After all, she behaved far more like a cop than he ever bothered to do so. But then, he had an understanding boss in Virgil Minelli. He actively encouraged all of his subordinates to behave in the way that got the best out of them. Sometimes, he complained loudly about the paperwork that incurred, but for the most part, he didn't mind so long as it ultimately got the result that they were looking for. However, that didn't change the fact that Lisbon had a very natural aptitude for police work. Jane couldn't help but wonder if they had found themselves in the wrong roles these days.  
  
“You’re too good. You know that, right?”  
  
Lisbon shrugged. “It’s what I believe in.”  
  
Briefly, her fingers touched the cross pendant that she wore on a daily basis. They rarely talked religion and for good reason; it was a dangerous subject to get involved in within the CBI offices. Even so, that necklace was the only sign of Lisbon’s beliefs; she never spoke of church, or of prayers. Only on very rare occasions did she say that she would ask God for assistance on somebody else’s behalf. From personal experience, Jane knew that the only other sign of her belief was a battered leather bible that she kept in her bedroom at home. He had immediately assumed it was a family heirloom, one of the few things her parents had kept a hold of while they traveled the carnival circuit. It had obviously been well-thumbed but still, he hadn’t dared to bring it up. It was her choice what she believed, regardless of how contradictory it appeared to be when compared to the rest of her skills. She was so in sync with her mind and that of other people too, it seemed odd that she could even consider there being another being out there.  
  
Jane pulled up some case files, and specifically, the photographs of the crime scene that Van Pelt had taken prior to their arrival. This morning, all his thoughts had been on his brother, and now, Edward had to share his mind with Red John. It truly was a strange day, but that was merely a way of life for a senior agent for the CBI. Deep down, Jane knew that he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Regardless, he couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about the fact that the one day he had dedicated to grieving for his brother had been rudely interrupted by a seemingly clairvoyant serial killer. Of course, psychics, clairvoyants, mystics or whatever else they wanted to call themselves didn’t exist. They were merely people trained in certain skills, just like his consultant. Red John was just exceedingly clever and at least three steps in front of them. As much as he hoped that Sophie Miller’s death would provide the much-needed development and break in the case, he felt like it was unlikely already.  
  
But, it had been so long since they last had a break. It felt like months since they had had somebody they knew was one of Red John’s men in custody. And he had slipped through their fingers, death by poisoning. Despite many hours of research, they hadn’t been able to catch the security guard who had been working with Red John too. Eventually, they had found him, dead, in the murder house along with all those other victims. His closest acquaintances had been informed, but the man had been so close, yet far away. It still felt a bit like a personal insult to know that one of Red John’s friends had somehow been placed within the CBI, unbeknownst to any of them. That ex-employee hadn’t had a single member of family, and all of his closest co-workers had had no idea. Lisbon had even resorted to hypnotism - something which they all knew was highly illegal – and yet, it had all been in vain. The lead had dried up, just like that. It felt like they were always thrown back to square one when it came to Red John and that, in Jane’s opinion, just wasn’t fair.  
  
“We’ll catch him,” Jane assured her, but in reality, he knew he was only saying it in attempt to try and convince himself that it was true.  
  
“I know,” she muttered in response.  
  
xxx  
  
Lisbon felt entirely drawn out by the end of the day. Working with Jane was always intensive and she had known that from the offset of their partnership within law enforcement. However, everything about their relationship had changed in recent months. Really, the triggering point for it all had been when she had insisted he stay with her instead of returning to the motel room where Red John had killed. She had hated the fact that Jane had even given half a thought about going back there; Red John had sent them a clear message. If he had killed in the personal space of any of the team, she would have reacted in exactly the same way. But, for some strange reason, she knew that it was Jane and Jane only that would have changed her so much. Lisbon did believe in fate and wondered if their connection was inevitable, that they would always have found one another, against all odds. Even if Jane didn't live with her for a spell, their relationship would have ended in this way anyhow. Being forced to live together, albeit temporarily, had merely sped up the process. Besides, being forced to endure the company of her father instead only served to make Lisbon miss Jane more. For some reason, it didn’t seem to matter that she saw him on a daily basis via work. It just wasn’t the same.  
  
And now, it was becoming clear that Red John had eyes and ears everywhere. Nowhere was safe, there was nowhere they could hide. Jane was obviously a little more cautious about whether or not her connection to Sophie Miller was simply a coincidence, but Lisbon absolutely wasn't. She knew Red John and knew that when he discovered the link, he would have been drawn to her psychiatrist like a moth to a flame. The fact that she had been distracted from the cause of hunting down the serial killer probably only served to make Sophie, a blast from her recent past, all the more alluring. And, she considered, if he got a taste for it, then she would have to watch out for anyone she had ever cared about. Since she had spoken about the serial killer on television, he had been out to hurt her, to teach her a lesson about slander. While she had been careful about what she had said, more because of confidentiality, she hadn't been careful enough.  
  
That wasn't a mistake she was willing to make twice.  
  
Lisbon blinked. Suddenly, she saw Grace Van Pelt's body lying broken on the floor. A pool of deep red blood stained her already bright red hair. Just above her head was the famous smiley face, the one thing that everybody knew about Red John. She shuddered, opened her eyes and stared back at the paperwork. Blinking again, she saw Rigsby's body, then Cho's and eventually, Jane's. For half a second, it all felt painfully real and Lisbon knew exactly why. Although she only wanted to capture Red John to bring him to justice - not just for Andrew and Eva but for every single one of the victims he had killed - the serial killer still had an obvious personal vendetta against her. At face value, his reasons for it still seemed petty but Lisbon couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than that. There were many skeletons in her closet, things that she had actively tried to forget in order to be able to live with herself. But, these things were still buried deep in her memory palace; Lisbon couldn't just stop remembering like other people, instead, she just avoided thinking about very specific subjects at all costs.  
  
That was a task made exceedingly difficult by the presence of her father. A lot of those memories were associated with him; as much as he had honed her skills, he had also done detrimental damage to her as well. However, she had been pleasantly surprised by his behavior during the time he had spent with her post-accident. Although they still argued occasionally, with him making cutting remarks and judgments, for the most part, he had avoided unnecessary conflict. It helped that she spent a lot of time out of the house due to work though. The paranoid cellphone calls had died down too, almost as if he realized she needed her personal space and had to apply herself fully to work, without undue distraction. He was still throwing himself into the physiotherapy with great enthusiasm, determined to regain full mobility of his bruised and battered limbs. The progress he had made seemed encouraging too; in fact, it was getting to the stage where there really was no need for him to be living under her watchful eye any longer. Lisbon really hoped that was the case. Deep down, she did love Jason Hamilton - he would always be her father, no matter what - but she was craving her personal space now.  
  
Especially so as she still wanted to figure out what the heck was going on in her mind with regards to a certain Patrick Jane. That was definitely something which she needed space and time alone to breathe in order for her to truly be able figure it out. Once again, she tried to focus on the Red John case files that lay in front of her. They were something she had read a thousand times or more, or so it felt, but that didn't necessarily mean she wouldn't have been able to see it from a different perspective today. But naturally, that was proving to be harder than it should have been. She twisted the simple gold wedding band around the ring finger of her left hand. It had never occurred to her to take it off, even after the past couple of years. _Unto death do us part,_ she had once said to Andrew Lisbon. Death had torn them apart, but she was still deeply in love with the man. She always would be; he was her first love and the father of her only daughter. Nothing would ever change that. And she was under no illusions that she would see him alive again, that physically wasn’t possible, but the ring was her connection to Andrew like the cross was to her mother. But these thoughts, these feelings that were beginning to emerge for Jane...  
  
Was it dishonoring his memory to fall in love with another man? Especially so, when she considered the fact she had never really achieved closure when it came to Andrew Lisbon. The very thought made her heart hurt. It didn't help matters that, yet again, she found herself in confined quarters with Jane. By choice, of course; she could easily have chosen to perch herself behind her desk in the bullpen and discussed theories with Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby instead. Still, during any Red John case, Jane’s office always felt like the right place for her to be. For just a moment, she gave up trying to read what was in front of her at all and instead, regarded Jane with a critical eye. He had his eyes closed and fingers were pressed to his temples. Not because he had a headache, but because he was deep in thought. Suddenly, his eyes sprang open and he looked at her, the expression grim.  
  
"We're not getting anywhere," he muttered.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Leave it till tomorrow?"  
  
She shrugged. Ordinarily, she would have disagreed in an instant; she would have argued that time was of an essence. If they didn't act fast, then any chance of working out the identity of Red John, never mind apprehending him, would just slip through their fingers. With these specific cases, the leads tended to die before they even had the chance to dig a little deeper. On occasion, that thought even applied literally. But she was tired and frustrated. She would have thought that after all these years of working the case, the CBI would at least have had a suspect list, but even that wasn't the case. Looking for Red John was like looking for a needle in a haystack. And that thought made her feel even more depressed about this sorry scenario. She now knew three victims of Red John's personally and Jane had known one too. And the whole team felt like that list was only going to increase now.  
  
"I think we should go for dinner," Jane suddenly propositioned, much to her surprise. "Without the others; it’s my treat."  
  
"Jane..." she started lamely.  
  
"Lisbon, please. We've been working on this for hours and nothing has changed since this afternoon. Rigsby and Cho have already confirmed that the family is a non-starter. We can't interview work colleagues at Sophie Miller's old or new workplaces until tomorrow and the autopsy report isn't expected for another 24 hours either. What else can we do when we have nothing new to work with?"  
  
"I still don't hear any reasons why you should be taking me out for dinner," Lisbon answered bluntly.  
  
"Because you need the distraction. Red John is always personal for you and this time, even more so. You need to take your mind off it for a little while."  
  
"I'm fine," she interrupted.  
  
"And besides, it's what friends do," Jane soldiered on, unperturbed. "I'm not taking no for an answer, Teresa."  
  
“Is this considered as payment in kind for this morning?”  
  
“No,” Jane answered back and she glared at him. “Well, maybe a little.”  
  
“You are going to have to take no for an answer, anyway.”  
  
She folded her arms, resolute in her decision. It was for the best, she told herself. They were work colleagues, she couldn’t go complicating matters. At least not until Red John was over, but who knew how long that would take? It wasn’t as if they could hope that the serial killer would decide to take a quiet retirement out in Switzerland. And besides, even if he did, there were still many people – well into the hundreds by now – who craved justice. That was something she just couldn’t let die just yet.  
  
“I thought you might say that.”  
  
“Then why did you even bother trying to ask?”  
  
“Just change it to taking a rain check?”  
  
“Maybe,” she replied cryptically. After all, there was no saying in specifically how long he would have hoped she would be able to hold him off for.  
  
“And make sure you eat properly tonight.”  
  
Lisbon rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad.”  
  
“You know, it’s only because I care.”  
  
“I know,” she whispered quietly and picked up her purse from the floor. “Goodnight Jane. I’ll see you in the morning. And don’t you stay here all night, either. Go home, get some rest.”  
  
“Yes, Mom,” he replied with a grin.  
  
She shook her head and left the room promptly. After making a detour to the bullpen to bid farewell to the guys, she headed straight to the elevator. Lisbon knew that the rest of the team was in for a long night at work and she felt a pang of guilt over leaving so soon. But, there was only a finite amount of things that she was capable of doing; some stuff was simply best left to the pros. As she drove home, she attempted to rid her mind of all thoughts about Red John. She didn’t want her father to know the serial killer had chosen to resurface again. That would be a sign of weakness and thus, a way for him to take advantage of her again. Lisbon just couldn’t afford to let that happen again; he had controlled her for far too much of her adult life already.  
  
When she pulled up in front of her modest townhouse, Lisbon closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn’t ready to go inside just yet. When she took a look at her home, she realized something was off. None of the lights were on; her dad wasn’t there. A spasm of fear ran through her body, but not necessarily for the right reasons. Lisbon shook her head, deciding she was being ridiculous and headed inside. This was what she wanted, she firmly reminded herself. He was merely reclaiming his independence, just as a man of his age should. It would be a long while until Jason Hamilton would allow himself to be dragged away to a care home, anyway.  
  
It was another two hours until he turned up on her doorstep. At nine pm, Lisbon had found herself getting increasingly worried. He didn’t say anything to her as he sidled inside, his arms laden with bags from the local grocery store. Instead, he headed straight for the kitchen and started to put everything away. Lisbon followed him through, quietly judging him for his behavior. He hadn’t even messaged her once all day, in spite of his opinion on her accompanying Jane to his brother’s funeral. Maybe, the silent treatment was just his way of expressing his disgust. And if it was, then he could go to hell. She knew that she had done the right thing.  
  
“Aren’t your doctors still telling you to take it easy?” she asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.  
  
“And here was me, thinking that you wanted me to start making efforts to move out,” he muttered under his breath before continuing, louder. “And besides, I don’t think my daughter of all people should be judging me.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“You heard me. Besides, I’ve been helping you.”  
  
“You have?” she echoed, incredulous.  
  
“Yes. I’ve set up a poker game for you to play in, with some of the brass from a local law firm. I know you can take them for all their worth, hypnotize nasty little habits like smoking and alcoholism out of them, and pretend to speak to their dead relatives. In just one night, I’m sure you could raise enough cash to buy me my own place and get me out of your hair.”  
  
“No,” she replied, immediately stubborn. There was absolutely no way she was going to do such a thing. She only ever played poker with the team these days, and only ever for candy, potato chips or the like. As far as she was concerned, she always had an unfair advantage. And then, there were his other, less salacious plans for her for the evening. It was simply out of the question.  
  
“No?”  
  
“No. I don’t do that anymore.”  
  
“Don’t kid yourself, Teresa. You may have shed my surname, got yourself a boring, respectable job and pretended to be a better person, but you will always be my daughter. You will always be a Hamilton, through and through.”  
  
Although this wasn’t necessarily the worst thing he had said to her during his re-emergence in her life, it was the thing that hurt the most. It was more the timing than anything else. If she hadn’t been to a funeral this morning, empathizing with Jane’s situation and then hadn’t had to endure the loss of her psychiatrist to Red John, then maybe she might have been able to feel a little differently. As it was, she steadied herself against the counter and tried to regain her composure. If she knew he had somewhere else to stay, then she would have kicked him out on his ass in an instant. It didn’t matter that he was her father. However, he had already made it clear that he had nowhere else to go. She just couldn’t force him out on the streets; she refused to have that on her conscience.  
  
“I was never like you in the first place,” she eventually replied, keeping her tone as even as feasibly possible.  
  
“You say that now, but one day, when you least expect it, the past will catch up with you. And don’t come crying to me when it does. Because then, you’ll know that you have been lying to yourself for these past few years. I promise you that.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Hey, Rigs.”

Lisbon flinched a little when she saw Wayne Rigsby’s bruised and battered face when she entered the bullpen first thing in the morning. She remembered the incidents of forty-eight hours previously, clear as day. This was her fault, she thought. If she hadn’t led him into that trap, then he wouldn’t have been beaten black and blue. She was the one with the skills to read into situations like this; she should have known that something was wrong with the lead. The only small mercy that she could content herself with was the fact that the case had been closed as a consequence. That meant that Rigsby’s physical pains weren’t endured all in vain.

“Hey, Lisbon,” he replied with a warm smile.

“You okay? Can I get you a coffee or anything?”

“I’m good thanks. Just working on some stuff I was doing last night.”

The conversation was awkward, stilted, but this was something that Lisbon had already expected. The last time they had shared a proper conversation had been as they chased up the lead in the McKinnon case. Since then, they had consistently found reasons to avoid crossing paths, until now, that was. They were the only two currently present in the bullpen and Lisbon was determined to make amends for what had been a fatal error of judgment on her part. If she didn’t deal with it, then she knew it would continue festering away in her mind long after Rigsby believed it had disappeared into irrelevancy, along with his obvious bruising.

“About the McKinnon case, when we were chasing up Lyons,” she started, speaking haltingly.

Rigsby stopped typing at that moment and turned to face her. She could feel him scrutinizing her, and she knew it wouldn’t be too long until he worked out what she was insinuating. Teresa Lisbon had never been one to mask her tells. As far as she was concerned, it meant people trusted her more. Ergo, they were more likely to open up to her when she needed them to do so.

“You feel guilty,” he stated plainly.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be. It’s a hazard of the job.”

“But I was the one who led you-“

“It was my lead,” Rigsby interrupted, obviously keen to put his side of the story across. “You only helped confirm what I already believed.”

“I should have seen that it was a trap.”

“Then I should have as well. Please, Lisbon, stop blaming yourself. You already have more than enough burdens on your shoulders.”

She nodded; he was right. Not a day went by when she wasn’t rattled with guilt over her family’s death. And then, she blamed herself for every subsequent victim of Red John’s too, up to and including Sophie Miller. Lisbon truly believed that she should have gotten closer to the serial killer by now, and that this was getting ridiculous. More than anything, she dreaded seeing a dripping red smiley face above the body of somebody else she cared about. That nightmare still haunted her on a very regular basis.

“You’re back to work far quicker than I expected,” Lisbon remarked lightly as the tension between them dissipated considerably. “You were hospitalized.”

“That was nothing. They just wanted to give me a checkup, make sure nothing was really hurt,” he answered, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m surprised they didn’t do the same to you.”

“I’m not a good patient.”

“I can believe that, but still…”

“I’m fine, Rigsby. You were the one who…”

“It’s just cuts and bruises and I’ve already said you need to stop blaming yourself. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel well enough to work, even though…” he paused, considering what to say next, but Lisbon already knew what he was thinking. “We’ve got more important things to be worrying about.”

He waved a hand in the direction of his computer screen. On it were photographs from the latest Red John crime scene and an older one too, potentially the Carter and Janet Peakes double murder. Rigsby had spent the silence of the early morning cross-referencing the newest crime scene with the older ones, just to make absolutely sure that it was Red John they were dealing with again. Lisbon didn’t need assurance from technology or photographic evidence for such a thing. She just knew.

“Red John,” she breathed.

“Red John,” Rigsby echoed with a firm nod.

It wasn't long until the others arrived and soon, they were gathered around the metallic table at the end of the bullpen. If they were going to have half a chance to get any closer to Red John then they had to be prepared. Lisbon had spent half the night wide awake, thinking about the case. She wouldn't have been surprised if the same applied to every single person congregated around this table. Out of principle, she avoided sitting next to Jane. One thing she knew for certain was just how dangerous her presence in this unit was. As far as she was concerned, she had painted targets on each and every one of their backs and especially Jane's. Their comparative intimacy would undoubtedly be something that Red John would loathe. After all, he was determined to make her life a misery ever since that fateful interview she had given, courtesy of her father. Sophie Miller's murder was confirmation of that, if nothing else. All of his more recent murders were slowly but surely holding a more important relevance for the team. No longer were they disparate murders, but people they knew. The more important question was who was going to be next? And when would he grow bored of toying with them and strike at the very heart of the team?

"So, where have we got to?" Jane eventually asked after a moment's silence that lasted altogether far too long.

"Nothing from the family," Cho confirmed, as straight to the point as ever.

"I've compared the crime scene to all the other Red John murders," Rigsby added soon after. "It’s definitely not a copycat; it fits his M.O."

Although it appeared a waste of time at face value, it was still a necessary job for Rigsby to do. Evidence was crucial in any crime investigation, Lisbon knew that. In a way, she was glad he had decided to do it in his own time rather than wasting his energies when everyone was focusing on the case. Even so, it still appeared slightly like a waste of time. It was Red John; they didn’t need confirmation.

"I've organized an interview with the manager of the hospital Sophie Miller worked at until two months ago. They are very keen to assist in any way that they can."

Lisbon stiffened at Van Pelt’s mention of the hospital that Sophie used to work at. She remembered her stint in the mental institution far too vividly. The days blurred into one, the pills dulled her mind and on too many occasions, she had tried to kill herself, to join her precious family in heaven. She still bore the scars from the countless times she had slashed her wrists open with any means possible. Sometimes, she even found herself believing that the treatment she received was only serving to drive her more insane than she had already been diagnosed as being. Eventually, when she was beginning to come back to her senses, Lisbon had found that only Sophie had been a shining light whenever she visited. She owed her relative sanity to Dr. Miller, that much was obvious. Even so, she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable about the direction the conversation was headed.

"I don't think that'll be necessary, sorry Van Pelt," Lisbon said softly. "She worked there for years; Red John didn't know. It’s unlikely he ever managed to get somebody working on the inside."

The redhead looked forlorn; she had spent hours on the phone, trying desperately to find the right person to speak to. In spite of being the newest person on the team, she already understood the urgency when it came to Red John. She had used her initiative when pulling strings at the institution, but it had all been in vain. It was clear that she felt like her hours had been wasted even more so than Rigsby’s had.

"Lisbon's right," Jane added, rubbing salt into the wound. "We probably won't find anything there."

"How can you be so sure?" Cho was the one to ask. It wasn't a threat to Jane's authority, but as second in command, he clearly believed they all had a right to know.

"Dr. Miller was an... acquaintance of Teresa's," Jane said obliquely.

For a moment, she caught his eye. That was when he took particular care over explaining the relationship she had shared with Sophie. If he had left it to her, she didn't even know what she would have said. Lisbon took the opportunity to read her coworkers one by one. Rigsby and Van Pelt took the explanation at face value. Cho, meanwhile, seemed like he had been reading the deeper meaning into Jane's phraseology. He knew what their boss had really meant. He understood that she had once been a patient of the deceased doctor's but wanted it to remain fiercely private. Mental health, after all, was still most definitely a taboo subject.  
"Sophie might have been headhunted while at the hospital," Lisbon said, partially to offer an olive branch to Van Pelt but mostly to keep the conversation moving. "It's probably worth sending somebody to make sure either way."

"I agree," Jane answered with a decisive nod. "Van Pelt, it's your lead, I want you to go and chase it up with Rigsby."

The rookie's face brightened instantly. After all the disappointment she had faced at her lead being crushed, she now had something to lift her spirits once again. Lisbon knew that it was the first time she had been given the opportunity to take the lead in the field. Usually, she remained stuck in the office manning the phones or chasing up paper trails. While it was important work, it was also dull and arduous. It wasn't the kind of thing that any of them signed up for when they joined the academy and trained to become cops. For the most part they were all after justice and although they wouldn't admit it, excitement too. The thrill of the chase got the blood pumping and heart pounding. It gave them an adrenalin rush. That was a shared passion, a shared need. These were well educated and highly strung people. Boredom quickly set in, especially when it came to Senior Agent Patrick Jane.

"Lisbon, you and I will go investigate the new place, the Stutzer Institute at Leyland State University, “Jane continued as Rigsby and Van Pelt promptly prepared themselves to leave. "If you're right, then Red John might have an associate working there."

Her heart sank a little. Immediately, avoiding contact with Jane for the greater good had become a failed plan. She should have known that he would have immediately assumed that everything was perfectly normal between them. After all, he hadn't been the one who had been suddenly spooked by the offer of dinner. Then, there had been that argument with her father. Jason Hamilton's callous words had settled uncomfortably in her mind and sent her overactive imagination into overdrive as a consequence. She had never liked her father, even when she had been small. Lisbon had always tried to fight against him but ultimately, she had lost out each and every time. Even on this occasion, with him bursting back on the scene after a two year absence, she could feel the power struggle between them. But she couldn't help but wonder what if he was right? What if she really was her father's daughter? What if she was always doomed to let down the people she loved spectacularly? That was why she couldn't let Jane get close to her. She had already lost one husband due to her sheer folly. Lisbon couldn't risk losing another man she loved to a similar fate.

And she knew that Jane had fallen for her too; it was something she had known that for a while. He was aware of his feelings but he was trying to act on them and keep a respectful distance at the same time. The man had always been a delightful bag of contradictions; that was something she had always liked about him. He loved action in the job but was fearful of his gun. He exuded authority and yet, somehow managed to act as anything but a boss. And he fell deeply in love but couldn't properly acknowledge it. She couldn’t really understand why he felt so much love and respect for her; she wasn’t anything particularly special. And worse, she was still caught up with her deceased husband. Although, she grudgingly admitted, that was probably not as much the case as she liked to think it was.

As much as she knew they were slowly beginning to enter a dangerous territory, she didn't argue with his instruction. He wanted her to come for a reason. That was because she was the one who would be most likely to be able to tell who was associated with Red John based on her natural instincts. Then there was the simple fact he wanted to talk. She had been acting standoffish and he would want to get to the bottom of it. He was never one to leave a mystery unsolved; whenever she displayed a new trick or mind game, he always insisted that she explained it step by step. He was quick to learn and now was beginning to use many similar techniques to what she did. The only difference was that it was clear that he remained inexperienced whereas she had grown up surrounded by this kind of thing.

Leaving Cho in the office, doing the jobs that Van Pelt would ordinarily be tasked with, they headed towards his little Citroen. She hated the thing, believed it was completely un-roadworthy but he still maintained that it was perfectly safe and a design classic. That may have been the case, but her opinion was always exacerbated by the fact that Jane was a bit of a speed demon the vast majority of the time. It seemed that she wasn’t the only one who had taken after a parent more than they would have liked to do so. Taking her by surprise, he drove slowly and steadily, but that only served to annoy her further. It was like he was deliberately delaying their arrival at the Stutzer Institute in favor of exacerbating this painful silence that had sprouted up between them. In the end, Lisbon simply gave up and was the one to break the silence.

“Are you sure it was wise allowing Rigsby and Van Pelt to work together today?” she asked quietly.

Jane glanced at her briefly and raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was only on very rare occasions that she bothered to judge his managerial decisions. That was mostly because they both knew it wasn’t her place to. If she were the one in charge, then she would have been free to make the right – or wrong – decisions as she saw fit.

“What do you mean?”

“Something happened between them two days ago, after Rigsby was hurt.”

“You thought so too?”

Lisbon nodded and Jane waved a dismissive hand from the steering wheel. “It’s against CBI policy,” she eventually said.

“I know, but they are both grown adults. It’s not my place to judge. Besides, who am I to stand in the way of their love and happiness?”

“You really believe that?”

“Yes I do. If Minelli wants to put my head on the chopping block, then so be it. It’s a stupid rule anyway. I’ve always thought so.”

“Oh.”

“And did you know, the rule does not apply to consultants?” he extrapolated and turned to face her. “You’re still a civilian, so if you wanted to date anyone on the unit…”

She cringed, but quickly noticed a viable excuse to change the subject. “The turning’s coming up. We’re nearly there.”

It was a relief to get out of closed confines with Jane. In little over an hour and a half, they had only shared one stilted conversation towards the latter end of the journey. The rest of the time, she had spent it alternating between watching Jane and staring aimlessly out of the window. There wasn’t anything else that she could have done at that moment in time. At least now they had the case to focus on; that would provide suitable distraction. Besides, she desperately wanted something to come out of this trip – and this case – for justice for Sophie. For justice for Andrew and Eva. For justice for everyone else who had lost their lives to Red John. And for justice for everyone who had been touched by the serial killer in one way or another. As difficult as the journey had been, that was far more important than any discomfort she may have felt, one way or another.

Professor Stutzer was busy when they arrived on campus, but they were promptly invited to listen in on the annual neurological symposium while they waited. Lisbon immediately accepted; a call from Van Pelt had discovered that the main guest speaker – Alex Nelson – was the ex-fiancé of Sophie Miller. Intrigued, she wanted to see this man in the flesh and maybe try and corner him before he had the chance to leave. She wanted to see how and why their relationship had broken down, and how they had come to work at the same campus. A part of her also begged the question of if the man had been related to Red John somehow, and had taken delight in leading her to the serial killer’s domain. But those were questions that would have to wait until later.

In the end, she didn’t even get to ask them at all. After sipping at a bottle of water, Nelson attempted to give his speech. He grew increasingly incoherent and dizzy. Even from the spot at the back of the auditorium, Lisbon could see the spots of sweat flecking at his forehead. Thankfully, Jane had already had the initiative to call for paramedics, but it was too late. The scientist had collapsed and promptly died before her superior had even had a chance to finish the call. Then, she moved into action and Jane called for backup. University security cleared the place on their behalf and soon, the bustling auditorium had become deathly silent.

“Don’t touch the bottle,” Lisbon snapped when one of the security staff went to pick it up. “It’s evidence.”

“It probably won’t have any prints on it,” Jane said as he appeared by her side.

“What makes you so sure?”

“According to Rigsby and Van Pelt, Nelson was the one to headhunt Sophie. He wanted her here despite their acrimonious personal relationship.”

“To kill?” Lisbon asked. “I guess it makes sense.”

“You done here?”

“Nearly.”

There wasn’t really much more she needed to do, but she felt the need to stare at the body one last time. Just a couple of hours ago, this man had been absolutely fine. Now he was poisoned and dead, just like the ex-security guard at the CBI headquarters. She could feel that this was Red John’s way of tying up loose ends and that only served to make him feel all the more dangerous in her eyes. Just how widespread was this man? Just how many people did he have under his spell and how did he convince the likes of Nelson to lure innocent people to their deaths? But then, she should have known that – somehow – the relationship she had shared with Sophie had made it to Red John. Obviously, Dr. Miller had let confidentiality slip to Nelson, and Nelson had eventually sold her out to the serial killer. Then, he had proved to be no longer useful and as a consequence had died in quite a spectacular manner. They knew that Nelson and Sophie Miller had had serious issues; Cho had quickly uncovered evidence of a restraining order and promptly told them via text. But that didn’t explain how they got from there to Sophie’s death.

By the time they finally had access to Dr. Stutzer, the man was reeling with shock at the fact he had lost not one but two of his subordinates in the space of thirty-six hours. The old man seemed to be visibly shaking, but he insisted that their work must go on and that the ‘morality engine’ they were working on in the brain was at the forefront of cutting-edge technology. They were nearing breakthrough and it would dishonor the memories of Drs. Miller and Nelson to delay the project they had both been working so tirelessly on right now. Of course, a memorial for them both would be going ahead as soon as possible, but for now, it wasn’t necessarily the priority. At face value, Lisbon could see that the decision could be perceived as being cold and callous; however, she also understood his sentiment. Besides, he was old and stuck in his ways. All he wanted to do was keep calm and carry on; it was the only way he knew how to cope with such a tragedy.

“It seems like somebody has something against my team,” Dr. Stutzer eventually said with a sigh. “Like they oppose the research I’m doing and believe I’m ‘playing God’ with the morality engine.”

“Excuse me, but why would Red John hold something against you?” Lisbon questioned.

“Red John?” he asked, baffled.

“Dr. Miller was murdered by Red John. As a consequence, we believe that Alex Nelson may have had a link to the serial killer.”

“I didn’t know that. But why would Red John have wanted to murder Sophie?”

“Because of me,” Lisbon replied quietly. “I knew her once.”

“Well then, I’m very sorry for you as well, Ms. Lisbon,” the doctor continued gently. “Sophie was a wonderful person. But I couldn’t believe that Alex would have been working with Red John. I know he and Sophie had their minor differences in the past, but to lead her to her death? He wouldn’t have gone that far.”

“Restraining orders don’t generally indicate ‘minor differences’.”

“No, but surely I would have known? I was their boss.”

“Red John and his associates work in mysterious ways. Thank you for your time,” Lisbon answered and stood to leave.

They didn’t need to know anymore. Dr. Stutzer was clearly submersed in his work, to the extent that he had no idea what anyone who he worked with was dealing with outside of the office. Then, there was the fact that she wholly disapproved of his subject of experimentation. Controlling the human brain seemed utterly ludicrous and as the man had said himself, behaving like a God. Besides, she half suspected that the whole project would eventually turn out to be a dead end. As far as she was concerned, it just couldn’t be possible to program people into being ‘good’ or ‘evil’. That was something akin to a science-fiction movie, not reality.

There was still a little way they could go. They had the water bottle, although she suspected the poison used had been hydrogen cyanide, there was still the potential for finding prints. If they could discover who had handed it to him, then that could give them a leap forwards. Then, they had to question Nelson’s family and friends. However, despite all this, it did already feel to her that they had lost the only person she really wanted to question with regards to Sophie Miller’s murder. She didn’t for an instant believe that Nelson was Red John – he was far too young for that – but there was still a high likelihood that he was working for the serial killer.

And now, she was scared stiff. She had always assumed that they were fighting a small handful of people, with one man sitting directly at the top. Now, it was becoming more apparent that Red John’s web of control extended in ways they didn’t even understand. She had a lot of work and a lot of consideration to do. And above all else, she swore she had to keep the team safe. They didn’t deserve to die just because they were associated with her. Beyond that, she doubted Red John found them of any interest. Unless any one of the Serious Crimes Unit proved to be a threat, the serial killer probably just found them to be a minor amusement. At least, that was how Lisbon consoled herself. It didn’t mean it was necessarily true; she had always been hopeless at lying to herself and others.

“You’re shaking,” Jane remarked lightly as they approached his car.

“No I’m not,” she denied promptly.

“You’re scared.”

“And you’re not?”

“Yes, I am,” Jane admitted and then he turned to grab her by the shoulders. She didn’t shy away and instead, stared him directly in the eye. “But I’m always going to save you, Lisbon, whether you like it or not.”

“Maybe I don’t need saving.”

“Oh really?” he questioned.

“Or maybe, I just need saving from you.”

It was a lame attempt at pushing him away, but it was better than nothing. She wasn’t even quite sure what she meant by the statement. In reality, she knew that she probably meant the reverse. If Jane wasn’t careful, then he was going to end up dead because of her. There was no two ways about it.

“I’ve never met a woman quite as stubborn as you.”

“Good job you did meet me then. You need somebody to shatter your illusions from time to time.”

“Charmed.”

“I try.”


	22. Chapter 22

As Jane expected, the Sophie Miller investigation came to an abrupt halt. The death of Alex Nelson was mostly to blame for that. After all, it was inordinately hard to prove that somebody was a part of Red John’s inner circle. The only way that it would truly be possible to make such a claim and find proof was to get a confession and names from the serial killer himself. But of course, without even having a suspect list to work from, pinning him down was inordinately difficult. As a consequence, Lisbon had grown more stubborn and morose. Jane could feel her pulling away from him and there was nothing he could do in response. In reality, he knew that all he could do was wait for her to come back to him. However, there was no saying in how long that would take. It only served to depress him further; this kind of thing wasn’t meant to happen to them.  
  
He knew she was using every spare moment to work on Red John. She could only be praised for that; if any member of his unit was going to blow open Red John and his inner circle, it was going to be Teresa Lisbon. Her mind could do things that others could only dream of; she was almost superhuman in a way. But also, underneath the strong exterior, an incredibly fragile woman was hiding. It wouldn’t take much to expose that either. Part of him was desperate to see her for who she really was. Jane knew he could cope with the darkness in other people’s lives; he had been through the worst and back again with his own family. Besides, he loved her through and through. When he said he would save her, he meant it.  
  
For now, he was distracted, however. Everyone bar Lisbon had been forced to put Red John on the backburner while they focused on their more recent case. The one they were focusing on at the moment specifically was particularly gruesome. A twenty year old man named Nick Lapinskas had had his whole face burned off, using a simple trick of a canister of deodorant and a cigarette lighter. Ultimately, the poor man had never stood a chance. If he hadn’t died at the scene, the severity of the burns and subsequent infection would have stolen his life later anyway. Lapinskas had been unarmed at the time, with no chance of defense. It was painful to think that such a young man had met such an awful demise, but that was the nature of the world he had found himself in. He may have been new to gang culture, but that wasn’t enough to stop him from becoming a target. If anything, it made it all the easier because he was comparatively inexperienced due to the fact he was still green behind the ears.  
  
It looked like an open and shut case. Rigsby had identified the accelerant and Van Pelt had discovered both the deodorant canister dumped in a nearby trash can. Meanwhile, Cho had been knee deep in investigations into the gang culture and facing the harrowing ordeal of burying himself back in his sordid past. The latter was especially useful, given Cho's links within the gang and the fact they still grudgingly respected him, in spite of becoming a cop. Even so, murders involving gangbangers were ordinarily shoved to the bottom of the pile and deemed irrelevant by law enforcement agencies. The law had no respect for them because they had no respect for the law. However, Cho was living proof that individuals could turn their life around. The 'Iceman' as he had been referred to by KS, the leader of the Avon Park Playboys, was practically unrecognizable when compared to his previous self, when he had been associated with them.  
  
But in reality, Jane knew that the only reason this murder was being investigated at all was because the deceased was the mayor's son. Despite the fact his son had obviously fallen off of the tracks and signed up to join the Playboys, the mayor still had enough political persuasion in order to get the CBI working on it. Jane found the whole thing completely disinteresting though; the mayor was an odious fool who irked him. Besides, Cho seemed to very much have the whole thing covered. Jane, meanwhile, was much more interested in working out what the heck was going on with Lisbon.  
  
Sophie Miller had been killed three months ago now. In the intervening time, Rigsby's bruises had healed, Red John had remained quiet and Lisbon's father had moved out of her home. But, unlike all that time where he had been suspiciously absent from her life, he remained in close contact with her at all times. Jane could see just how much it was stressing her out but he hadn't even had the opportunity to offer any assistance. She refused to acknowledge him in conversation in anything beyond a professional basis. That was what hurt the most; he missed her deeply and in every way feasibly possible. Although he still saw her regularly, it just wasn't the same. He needed that intimacy he had once shared with her. Jane had never had a serious relationship and instead had indulged in one night stands. Never before had he realized what it would be like to crave somebody who wasn't willing to offer themselves back. Understanding that she didn't have much to give was all well and good, but it didn't change how he felt. Something had happened, something had made her pull away and now, he knew that he had to find out what in order to rectify it. It had already been three damn months since they had last shared a proper conversation and he still hadn't gotten anywhere.  
  
That was half the reason he had decided to let the others take charge in this case. Then it gave him the opportunity to work on the 'how do you solve a problem like Teresa?' issue. After all, this didn't just affect him but the whole unit. Even Minelli had noticed and he wasn't especially happy about the fact. Nobody liked it when team dynamics shifted significantly and they had endured two major changes in recent months. The first was the fact that Rigsby and Van Pelt had fallen into a romantic relationship, something that Jane absolutely refused to interfere with. He was pleased for their newfound happiness which had been borne out of Rigsby’s beating and besides, the ruling was ridiculous anyway. Then there was his and Lisbon's shared dilemma. At least he felt like that was something he could deal with; all he had to do was break down Lisbon's barriers somehow. That, he knew from personal experience, was a task far easier said than done.  
  
Jane's reverie was quickly broken, however. Cho strode in through the open door, with a case file clutched between his fingers. Instinctively, he knew that this was good news: the Lapinskas case was moving forwards. Cho didn't take a seat, he never did, and instead, he stood directly opposite him and stared him straight in the eye. As unprofessional as Jane appeared at face value, Cho was the polar opposite and it was something that he both appreciated and found amusement in. After all, given their respective backgrounds most people would have believed that Jane would have been the resolute professional whereas Cho would have filled out the role of maverick nicely. But as destructive as the gang had been, the military had been constructive for Cho. He really had saved himself.  
  
"We've got a lead in the Lapinskas case," Cho said, just as Jane expected him to. "We believe the mayor was responsible for his son's death in order to rid himself of the familial shame."  
  
Briefly, Jane closed his eyes and brought back to sight the vision of Nick Lapinskas' blackened face. The manner of death looked like a typical issue of gangs running into one another and using whatever came to hand in order to kill. But, Cho and his fearless mode of investigation had seen straight through the deceit and lies and uncovered the truth. This was why, one day, Kimball Cho would make an exceptional team leader. He may have been very quiet but he understood people and that was far more important than anything else could possibly have been.  
  
"Any evidence?"  
  
"We got a warrant to search Mayor Lapinskas' home. Rigsby found a pair of black leather gloves and one of the victim's lighters in the trash can. It should be enough for an arrest."  
  
“The mayor was the one who called it in. When did he suddenly become a suspect?”  
  
“Two days ago,” Cho replied bluntly, much to Jane’s irritation. “The paperwork is there, on your desk.”  
  
“Okay, you’re going to have to bring me up to speed on this one, Cho.”  
  
Jane felt guilty for not keeping up with the case; he was the team leader and prided himself with knowing everything about the team and their goings on. Naturally, that included exactly what they were working on at any given time. Some people called it being overly nosy and overly invested in people’s working lives, those who didn’t understand his idiosyncrasies labeled it as being a control freak, but Jane was just interested. Besides, if he was a control freak, he had no idea what the heck that made Lisbon. Despite being ‘only’ a consultant, she still somehow managed to make it seem like she was the one in control of the both of them. He’d already lost count of the number of times people assumed their roles were reversed. It didn’t bother him though, if anything, he found it amusing. If it had irritated him, then he would have done something about it a long while ago anyway. Instead, he just chose not to see it as an issue. The same applied to Rigsby and Van Pelt’s relationship. Jane knew the team questioned why he hadn’t passed judgment on it, but in doing so would only make things worse. They were happy; it may have changed Cho’s relationship with Rigsby a little, but the team could easily work around it. His and Lisbon’s issues were the more difficult ones, meanwhile, and he was determined to intervene. But for now, it was going to have to take a back seat even though moments earlier, he had been determined to make it his first priority.  
  
Mercifully, though, if Cho passed judgment on Jane's gaps in knowledge about the Lapinskas case, he didn't breathe a word about it. In spite of his occasional lack of professionalism, the team did respect him deep down and that provided him with a small comfort. It was funny how desperate his need for validation was, but he knew that was an innate part of him. He knew that regardless of the life he'd led, it would have always been there. But for now, that was all irrelevant. Jane listened attentively as Cho told him about how the case against Mayor Lapinskas had developed. It soon became clear to him that they were entirely correct. He didn’t even need to pass the theory through Lisbon to be sure; his team consisted of good workers, and they had followed their instincts. The warrant for the inept mayor's arrest was completely justified and all that was left was for them to go and pick him up.  
  
“Great,” Jane said when Cho had made his concluding statement. “It’s your case; go pick him up. Take Rigsby with you.”  
  
Cho didn’t answer; instead he stared at Jane haltingly. Initially, Jane wondered if Rigsby was the issue at hand here. After all, before the development of Rigsby and Van Pelt’s relationship, he had considered the arson specialist as being his partner. In reality, he still was. Van Pelt didn’t go out in the field too often; she was too inexperienced. And besides, she had always been good with computers and technology so she needed to be in the office to work effectively. That was half the reason Jane had chosen her as the new rookie; she filled in a gap in the team’s knowledge perfectly. Then, he realized why Cho was behaving so reluctantly. Rigsby wasn’t the problem at all; the two men were still friends and could still work as an effective partnership. Jane smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand in dawning realization and it was only then that he continued.  
  
“I forgot. You’re picking up your father from the airport in two hours. He’s back after the trip back home to Korea.”  
  
“Yes. Can I go now?”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll deal with this.”  
  
“What about Lisbon?” Cho suddenly blurted out when he reached the door.  
  
“What about her?” Jane asked, acting oblivious. He knew exactly what Cho was implying and he didn’t like it much.  
  
“You two are having problems. It’s affecting your work.”  
  
“If you’re implying there’s something untoward going on between us, then you’re wrong Cho.”  
  
“Even if there was, it’s none of my business, except when it affects the whole team.”  
  
“I’m dealing with it,” Jane replied grimly, glaring at Cho irritably. It was unusual for his second in command to cross the line and it startled him considerably. “Go reunite with your father.”  
  
Cho murmured his thanks before leaving for good this time. Jane scowled as he shut down his computer. It was very unlike Cho to comment on team dynamics; he was usually the one who chose to just get on with it and remain uninvolved. But then, Rigsby and Van Pelt were probably too involved with one another to notice and Lisbon was half the problem. Nobody else was going to comment and thus, Cho had felt like his hand had been forced. Even so, this wasn’t something he needed at the moment. His issues had already led to him feeling crippled with self-doubt and this only served to make things worse. Eventually, Jane shook his head, exited the office and headed straight towards the bullpen. Lisbon was going to come with him to make this arrest whether she wanted to or not.  
  
As expected, she was huddled behind her desk and elbow-deep in paperwork. He had never met another consultant quite as diligent and thorough as she was. Usually, civilians didn’t care for the details, only for the crime-solving. But Lisbon wasn’t any old person and that was what made her utterly unique. Putting on an air of confidence, he strode over to her desk and sat opposite her. He smiled broadly, but she appeared to remain oblivious to his presence. Eventually, he resorted to snatching the file she had been studying with great interest and skimming over it. His heart sank when he realized that it was yet another thing to do with Red John. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really.  
  
“Hey, I was reading that,” she complained and pouted.  
  
“I bet you’ve read it hundreds of times before.”  
  
She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “So what if I have?”  
  
“You’re wasting your time, Teresa.”  
  
“I am trying to solve a case involving a notorious serial killer. If anything, you should be commending me.”  
  
“Yes, but I don’t want to see it destroy you, either. It can happen.”  
  
“I know what I’m doing,” she replied coolly.  
  
“And so do I,” he answered back firmly and stood up once more. “C’mon, we’ve got a criminal to apprehend.”  
  
“The Lapinskas murder?” she queried.  
  
“Yes. I want you to come with me.”  
  
“Is that an order?”  
  
“It is if you want it to be.”  
  
Lisbon rolled her eyes and fell into step as they walked to the elevator. “Fine.”  
  
“Good girl.”  
  
“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped and slapped him lightly on the arm.  
  
“I’ll have you know that’s battery of an officer of the law!”  
  
“Yeah, and what are you going to do about it?”  
  
“You’ve got me there,” he admitted quietly.  
  
He didn’t want to offend her. Instead, Jane had only been trying desperately to recreate that easy flow of conversation that they had once shared. Although it was the closest they had gotten to the light-hearted comments of the past in a long while, it still felt a little forced. As far as Jane was concerned, it only highlighted how lost he felt since she had pulled away from him. He needed her and he knew that the feeling was reciprocated. The only problem was that Lisbon just wasn’t willing to admit to such a thing.  
  
“Have you given Mayor Lapinskas fair warning about his upcoming arrest?” Lisbon asked to break up the silence once they were in the car.  
  
“No, why should we?”  
  
“Because he’s a public servant; doesn’t he deserve a little respect?”  
  
“He also burned his son to death,” Jane reminded her quickly and she flinched visibly.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“If we gave him warning, don’t you think he would try to evade capture?” he reasoned and she shrugged her shoulders. “He’s a dangerous man with friends in high places. Besides, it’s a Saturday and his day off. At least the arrest is going to occur in the privacy of his own home.”  
  
“I guess,” Lisbon eventually conceded and Jane smiled. It was the first time in a while that he had managed to persuade her that his course of action was the correct one to take. “And are you sure it’s wise to let Rigsby and Van Pelt work together like this? Their relationship is against CBI policy for a reason.”  
  
“What is it with you guys today?” Jane questioned under his breath, but kept his eyes firmly on the road. “First Cho, then you…”  
  
“What did Cho say?”  
  
He could feel her eyes on him and he knew she was trying to work out what Cho had spoken to him about. Jane also knew that it most likely wouldn’t take her long to figure it out either. “It doesn’t matter.”  
  
“It’s about me, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yes,” Jane replied. If nothing else, his sudden outburst had provided him with a lead in for the conversation he had wanted to share with her. Silently, he thanked both Lisbon and Cho for giving him the ideal opportunity to thrash out this problem. They were going to be sorted before they got to the Lapinskas residence. That was something he silently vowed to himself.  
  
"Jane..."  
  
"This problem we have, it's affecting the whole team."  
  
"It's nothing to do with them; it doesn't matter so long as we are doing are jobs correctly. I'm behaving professionally."  
  
"Are you?" Jane asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Cho noticed. He's not happy."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Again, they fell into that awfully uncomfortable silence. Vaguely, Jane considered stopping off somewhere so that he could tackle this problem head on, without any distraction. Then, he would be able to focus entirely on Lisbon instead of splitting his attentions between her and the road. But, if he stopped, that would give her the opportunity to leave him and their issues would remain unresolved. A moving car provided no means of escape and therefore, she had no choice but to talk or at the very least, listen to what he had to say. And besides, they needed to arrest Mayor Lapinskas tonight. If he was guilty - and it seemed fairly obvious that he was, unless it was just an elaborate frame job - then there was going to be a scandal regardless. But the man probably already realized that they were out to arrest him and the last thing they wanted was for him to disappear into the ether. A man with his connections could easily do something like that.  
  
"Why have you pulled away from me? What have I done wrong? How can I fix it?”  
  
"You haven't done anything wrong," Lisbon whispered quietly but she didn't look at him. "I'm the problem."  
  
"Teresa, you will never be a problem to me."  
  
"It's not that..."  
  
She didn't need to finish her sentence for him to be able to work out what the lingering issue was. Jane gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly and swallowed. When it came to Teresa Lisbon, the problems always started and finished with Red John. Jane knew and could understand why she would never feel safe again until he was safely locked behind bars, never to see the light of day again. Something had happened which triggered Lisbon into believing they had gotten too close. As a consequence, she had pulled away out of fear of something that might never happen. And he hated it. Her whole life had been under the control of her father. When her father had temporarily vanished, a serial killer had taken over that role. Lisbon had never been able to take control of her life for herself. That was something that he had been able to take for granted. All that thought succeeded in doing was make him realize just how unfair life had been on his consultant. And there was very little he could do to change her mindset.  
  
"Red John," Jane breathed and Lisbon looked away.  
  
It wasn't a surprise in the slightest that this was the crux of the issue. Lisbon spent the vast majority of her spare time working the Red John case and for good reason. It was, after all, the reason she insisted upon working with the Serious Crimes Unit. No other team would have suited her needs. Most victims of the serial killer would have been out for blood, but she insisted she merely wanted justice. Ordinarily, Minelli would have just turned around and refused, but somehow she had convinced him she was genuine. And Jane believed her too; he had to. Besides, he could see the honesty shining out of her eyes. He knew he didn't need to fear her murdering the serial killer in revenge for what he'd done to her husband and daughter.  
  
But Jane, he knew that he would quite happily strangle him with his own bare hands, if he had half a chance to do so. The killer had blighted too many lives to deserve to live another day. And with every passing moment, he was destroying Lisbon. She didn't live; she just existed. And underneath the broken husk, Jane could see the passionate woman she once was. He had been so close to exposing it but then she had drifted away because he had taken a misstep. Now, he knew the only path to letting Lisbon be herself was to dispose of Red John in any means necessary. And once again, Jane was relieved that he had the law on his side. Not many other people who wanted to see the blood of a serial killer spilled could say that.  
  
"You let him rule your life, Teresa. It doesn't have to be this way."  
  
"You really don't get it, do you?" Lisbon suddenly snapped, anger flickering in her eyes. "People I know, people I lo- care about, they get hurt. I don't want to add your name to that list. Please, Jane. It's for the best."  
  
He disagreed but that wasn't necessarily the most interesting part of her statement. Jane had noticed her stumble over a certain word and how she had immediately corrected herself. It was unlike her; in spite of her natural honesty, she still kept her cards close to her chest. She'd had to in order to convince people she was a psychic, despite her betraying eyes. And now, she used those same skills to stop herself from being hurt within the CBI. Jane had known from the offset that she didn't trust easily and that was partially because she didn't know how to trust herself. He desperately wanted to try and get her to open up more but it was too late; they had arrived at the Lapinskas residence and it was time to focus on the case in hand.  
  
The sting to arrest Mayor Lapinskas didn’t go entirely to plan. It didn’t take long for it to transpire that the man had already attempted to flee; Lisbon was resigned to the fate of him escaping their clutches, but Jane had another hunch. He knew the mayor fairly well and it wasn’t the first time he had been involved in a case. Besides, he enjoyed his creature comforts a little too much for him to just drop everything and leave at a moment’s notice. While he requested that Lisbon call for backup, Jane started to investigate the house. Soon enough, he found a panic room installed in the cellar and after working through the top ten key codes, the door sprang open to reveal the supposedly missing mayor pointing a gun in his face. However, it didn’t take much effort to realize the thing had been decommissioned and therefore, was unloaded and the man was hauled away.  
  
Even so, when he had passed over the man to Rigsby and reunited with Lisbon, Jane still found himself shaking a little.  
  
“You okay?” she whispered softly as they sat in his car. He hadn’t even bothered to put the key in the ignition yet. Jane simply wasn’t ready to move.  
  
“I’ll be fine,” he answered, but didn’t bother to add ‘which is more than can be said for you.’ Some things just didn’t need stating. “Why did you think he’d already fled the state?”  
  
“The man killed his own son. He was spineless and only cared about saving his skin. Besides, he’s a politician; he has no soul. Why would he hang around and wait when he knew that the cops were after him?”  
  
“True.”  
  
“Besides, I did work the case, you know. Where have you been?” she asked.  
  
“I’ve been following other leads and inquiries,” he replied.  
  
“Which means you’ve been worrying about me,” she concluded.  
  
He didn’t answer, but of course, she was right. Jane didn’t expect anything less of her. Thankfully, his need to reply was interrupted by the sharp ring of his cellphone. It was Cho; Jane frowned. He knew that his second in command would be tied up with his father for the rest of the day and therefore, he hadn’t expected to hear from him until at least the morning. Regardless, Jane answered it. At least Cho had gotten him out of an uncomfortable situation, if nothing else.  
  
“It’s my father,” Cho said bluntly after Jane answered the call. “He’s been murdered by Red John.”  
  
Jane’s heart sank. It was a classic case of out of the frying pan and into the fire.


	23. Chapter 23

Jane stared up at the smiley face and shuddered. Red John was getting more bombastic, more audacious by the second, or so it felt. This was clearly the most public place he had ever killed somebody. Immediately, it posed several questions in his mind: how had he gotten away with it and why had everybody failed to notice the murder of Kimball Cho’s father?  
  
Cho himself was bearing up remarkably well, given the news. However, there was a distinct difference between how Cho looked on the outside and how he actually felt on the inside. He had his tells, but in comparison to Lisbon’s, they were virtually imperceptible. As he pulled his gaze away from the face on the wall and onto the body, Jane made a mental note to have a word with Cho, or at least get Lisbon to do so on his behalf. He needed to know that the team was willing to support him through the grief and that one way or another, they all understood what it was like to lose somebody close to them.  
  
Red John was getting closer and closer to the team. Barely hours ago, Lisbon had practically said that this was going to happen and already, she had been proven to be entirely right. Again, Jane could feel that incorrigible itch to just try and destroy Red John by any means possible. He wasn’t just hurting Lisbon now, but trying to get to her through his team. This was becoming more and more personal by the week. The question of legality didn’t even cross his mind, not anymore. There was always a way to cover up these things, if you were clever enough to know how.  
  
“Lisbon,” he said quietly and reached out to touch her. He didn’t even need to look to know exactly where she was standing. Jane could just feel her presence and that was how he liked it. As far as he was concerned, their relationship was symbiotic. Unfortunately, she had made it all too clear just how detrimental she believed it to be – for the both of them.  
  
“What do you think?”  
  
“Does it really matter what I think?” she muttered back, quietly enough so that Cho and Van Pelt didn’t hear. “I told you it would happen; it was only a matter of time.”  
  
“Teresa,” he replied, his voice warning.  
  
“I know and I’m sorry.” Jane stole a brief look at her face and he could tell that she genuinely meant it. Sometimes, it was a blessing to know she was as easily read as it was for her to read other people. “I assume we haven’t got anything of use from the cameras?”  
  
Said security cameras had their wires frayed; as sliced and diced as Cho’s father was. It was clear that the airport would be exceedingly lucky if they could salvage them. In reality, it would probably be far cheaper for them to replace them than fix them. But that was irrelevant. At least the departure lounge did have cameras in place; it was more than could be said for the vast majority of crime scenes.  
  
“There’s a few minutes footage before the murder occurs. Ron is analyzing it as we speak.”  
  
“But…”  
  
“But Red John was wearing a mask. Everything potentially identifiable had been covered one way or another.”  
  
“And nobody noticed him dressed as a madman…” Lisbon pondered and then shook her head abruptly. “No, he had a suitcase with him? And changed shortly before entering the departure lounge? And that is why Ron is taking so long to analyze it?”  
  
“Yes. The opaque glass walls are providing difficulty.”  
  
“Of course,” Lisbon breathed. “There’s a reason that Red John chose this room specifically.”  
  
“It was marked out of order. Prior to…” Van Pelt piped up, but trailed off quickly. “That’s why there was nobody around. Everyone was being directed to the economy departure lounge, regardless of status.”  
  
“Can’t imagine business class passengers being impressed with that,” Jane muttered.  
  
Cho had taken a moment to vacate the room and gather together his feelings. Lightly, Lisbon returned Jane’s touch and he turned to face her, completely ignoring the body now. She was looking more troubled and preoccupied than she had been for a long while, but that was entirely predictable. Lisbon always got like this whenever Red John killed somebody new. Worse, Cho had been afflicted and that was something which she intrinsically understood. And Jane would have been entirely foolish if he didn’t acknowledge the fact that both Sophie Miller and Cho’s dad were known to the team in one way or another. Suddenly, a strangulating fear enveloped him. What if he was next, what if one of his brothers was next? The Jane brothers were barely over Edward’s death; he wasn’t sure if they could cope with losing another one of their number so soon after. But, the thought was selfish; he wasn’t the only one who could potentially suffer next. And besides, Cho was the one whose family had just been plunged into a pit of despair thanks to Red John, not his. Still, he swallowed; a rope was tightening around them. The only question was would Red John be the one to finish off the job, or was he merely waiting for the Serious Crimes Unit and specifically, Teresa Lisbon, to hang themselves?  
  
Without another word, Lisbon, too, left. Jane watched through the glass walls as she spoke to Cho. The two of them were kindred spirits now; they both knew exactly what it was like to lose a loved one to Red John. Cho’s only crime against the serial killer had been his job position; no more and no less. He had been damned by association. And although Jane was aware that Cho and his dad had had their differences in the past, it didn’t mean he didn’t love him. Vaguely, Jane couldn’t help but wonder what the two were saying exactly. It was blindingly obvious what the subject matter was. Only a fool would have been oblivious to that. But then, Lisbon was the best to have this conversation with Cho; she had empathy in spades and besides, she had actually lived through what Cho was dealing with right now. A wistful smile briefly crossed his features; he hadn’t even needed to suggest that she talk to Cho about this. Their minds were in sync, whether she liked it or not.  
  
“Are we done here?” Lisbon asked the moment she returned back into the room. She was stoically avoiding looking at the smiley face on the wall and Jane couldn’t blame her for that. It was a painful reminder that he was failing the team and she probably felt entirely responsible for this. Nothing he could say would ever convince her that it wasn’t her fault; she was resigned to her fate  
.  
“Yes, we’re done,” Jane replied.  
  
They walked out side by side. Jane felt his spirits lowering by the second. When Lisbon had told him that she suspected that Red John would get a little more personal when it came to the team, he hadn’t anticipated it happening imminently. Sometimes, he vaguely wondered if she was lying when she said she wasn’t actually a psychic, but then he always corrected himself. Jane knew full well that psychics did not exist. However, that didn’t stop the coincidence from being more than a little bit eerie. After sending Cho home to console his mother, Van Pelt to the offices to start the background checks and a quick call to Rigsby to see how he was doing with the Lapinskas interrogation, they headed towards the manager’s office. A few texts from Ron indicated that he wasn’t getting very far with the security personnel and their videos of the crime scene, but Jane hoped that the manager would be able to shed a little more light on the predicament. There had to be somebody on the inside, somebody who could have told Red John precisely when Cho’s father was landing in Sacramento. How else would he have been able to intercept before Cho was reunited with him? The body was so fresh; this was the soonest after a Red John murder that they had gotten to the crime scene. Somebody had to know something. It was just ludicrous to think otherwise.  
  
The manager, however, was apparently not that person. While he knew that the business departure lounge was not currently in use due to a pre-planned refurbishment, he seemed oblivious to everything else going on. In fact, he hadn't even realized that the CBI was investigating murder right under his nose until he and Lisbon turned up at his office door. And worse, the man had refused to lock down his airport in order for them to investigate said murder effectively. He just didn't care that he was allowing key suspects and many potential witnesses to leave the state and the country. If Jane had provided him with names, it might have been different. As the case was obviously still in the preliminary stages of investigation, he could not. Therefore, he did not cooperate. _There's nothing more that can be done for him,_ he'd said. _The man is dead; I can't let him ruin more lives than just that of his immediate family._ Lisbon had asked about justice, somewhat unsurprisingly but the manager had passed it off with a derisive shake of the hand. Jane's hackles had immediately risen and it was only Lisbon's sensible words that had calmed him down. But, she was angry too; the look in her eye said more than she ever would have dared to, especially given the circumstances. It was obvious that she believed that this was the closest they had ever gotten to Red John and this man had freely allowed him to slip through their fingers. It was a wonder that he had at least stopped the crime scene itself from being contaminated too. At least he could be grateful for some small mercies in this case.  
  
But, the man's behavior had naturally put him top of the list of suspects - both for being a member of Red John's inner circle and for being the serial killer himself. As Jane excused them both, thanking him for his time through gritted teeth, he made a mental note to immediately get Van Pelt doing background checks on him. If something came up, then he knew that he would feel even more validated for his blind fury.  
  
"That man is hiding something," Jane immediately blurted once they were out of hearing range of the office.  
  
"I know, Jane," Lisbon replied and the sound of resignation was heavy in her tone.  
  
"Do you think-"  
  
"That he's Red John?" she interrupted and shook her head. "No."  
  
"You sound very despondent, Teresa." She probably didn’t need telling that what he’d really meant was ‘you’re not as angry as I thought you’d be over this.’  
  
"Red John is probably long gone, Jane. He isn't going to hang around at the crime scene and especially not one as busy as this. It's too risky, too dangerous."  
  
"You think he flew out?"  
  
"No, I don't. Because then, records that he was even at the airport at all would exist. He needs ways to cover his tracks and that is not it, even with friends on the inside."  
  
"We will catch him and when we do, he will not live to see another day."  
  
"Jane!"  
  
Lisbon's tone of voice changed from despondency to horror in the blink of an eye. That wasn't a surprise. Even though he was a cop and the face of the law, she had always been far more honorable than he ever had. Somehow, throughout his career, he had managed to get away with not taking a single life, even of the guiltiest of men who had committed the most heinous of crimes. Just because they were murders or rapists or terrorists or worse, it didn't mean they didn't necessarily have family who cared about them. Jane had been touched by loss a few too many times to feel able to do that. He was more than happy to let the criminals he apprehended, be judged by their peers and then sent to death row. Then, he'd done his duty and outfoxed the lawless, played them at their own games. However, when it came to Red John, he was more than happy to put that all aside. In this case, he wanted to take the law into his own hands; he needed to see blood spilled. Lisbon had all the reasons to want what he wanted, but she still managed to take a step back and see the bigger picture.  
  
But, said bigger picture was a tangled web of lies and deceit. When Lisbon had said that the airport manager was highly unlikely to be Red John, Jane had agreed with her. If he was involved - and he probably was - then he was only an assistant to the killer. With the way that Red John was specifically targeting the CBI's Serious Crimes Unit, it made far more sense that he was somebody that one of them knew personally. How else would he have worked out the innermost workings of the unit, and how would he have been able to plan who to kill next? Red John couldn’t have been relying on serendipity and chance encounters. It was simply implausible.  
  
And that was what made it all the worse. It encouraged him - all of them - to be mistrustful and suspicious of people they cared about, each other included. Cho technically didn't have an alibi for his father's death. Neither did Rigsby. Both of them had been out of the office when the murder had occurred. It was, however, a blessed relief to know that Lisbon was in the clear. She had been with him, ergo, it was simply not possible for her to be responsible for this death. Then again, that would have been a very macabre twist of fate. Jane had read a lot about split personality disorders and their ilk. But it didn't matter; Jane knew he could trust Teresa Lisbon and the same applied to her when it came to him. The problem just remained with practically everybody else they knew.  
  
"You can't say things like that," she muttered quietly once they were back in the vehicle. "It's illegal."  
  
"After what Red John has done to you, to Cho and to countless other people, he deserves to die."  
  
"I didn't say he didn't. But it needs to be done the right way. Otherwise, you'll be as bad as him. I don't want to see that happen to you, Patrick. I need you."  
  
xxx  
  
One week passed by far quicker than Lisbon would have liked. After all, the case wasn’t going anywhere, much to all of their frustrations. Cho had been given mandatory leave; he was just too close to justify having him work this murder. It was going to be difficult trying to convince the brass that the unit should keep hold of the Red John case anyway. All their years of hard work would be for naught if the case was ripped away from them, even if the concern was understandable. It wasn’t just her who was too close to it now; it was all of them. She shook her head as she stared at the computer screen, even though the harsh light was beginning to hurt her eyes and the words were slowly blurring together. No, she wasn’t going to let that happen. She was going to make sure that this ended imminently. Too many people had suffered and now, it was extending quickly to the people she cared about.  
  
Jane was of particular concern. He had been reckless, ever since the day she had first met him. But now, his recklessness was turning into sheer dangerousness and that didn’t even seem to bother him. He still hadn’t really taken the time to entirely come to terms with his brother’s death and she knew that his remaining siblings were still at odds with one another as a consequence. Lisbon was certain that the three of them wouldn’t have been able to handle another tragedy. They’d lost both parents and a brother too soon. It wouldn’t be fair on them. And then, there was Van Pelt, who was quickly losing her youthful naiveté, partially thanks to the job in general but more due to Red John. How much damage could he do to somebody as infinitely sweet as her? That left Rigsby, who had lost his childhood in a similar way to herself, Jane and Cho. He certainly didn’t deserve to suffer either.  
  
But it was still a seemingly impossible chore. Of course she had her theories, even a vague list of suspects as to the identity of Red John, but that was all it was, theories and supposition. Every time they thought they had gotten a solid lead, it disappeared before their very eyes. Jane had been right about the airport manager; he had been shady and more importantly, it seemed like he had been involved with Red John. Unfortunately, much like every previous person they’d gotten close to who had been involved with the serial killer, he had been disposed of in a grotesque manner. The man had ended up committing suicide in front of a stunned Van Pelt and now the poor woman was struggling to comprehend with what she’d been forced to face. Much like anyone would have had they been in her shoes, she had believed she should have been able to stop it. But, the man had worked with Red John. He’d been far too brainwashed to be willing to help them. Ultimately, like any of Red John’s inner circle, he had been willing to die for the cause, however horrifying that very thought was. It showed just how ingrained the belief systems of those people had become, if they were willing to die for a serial killer. Lisbon almost hated that more than she hated the fact he killed other people. It was simply wrong.  
  
She clutched at her mother’s cross pendant and offered up a simple prayer. It wasn’t for herself, but for those around her. Lisbon knew that certain people, Jane specifically, would not particularly appreciate it, but she didn’t care. So long as she could keep them safe, that was all that counted. All she could do was hope that this time around, God would be on her side. After all, she had never seen Red John’s interference in her life coming the day her family had been killed. All she had been thinking about was that arduous reading with that presenter and getting home. Never had she believed that her world could be turned upside down quite so catastrophically.  
  
Her prayer was cut short by a knock at the door. Lisbon pulled herself away from her computer, left it running and quickly went to answer it. She hadn’t been expecting any visitors; if something came up on the case or a new one arose, then her cellphone was always by her side. That meant she could easily narrow it down to one of two people: her father and Jane. But even her father had been generally leaving her alone a lot lately… That was something she was grateful for. Lisbon had been so scared that he would try to take over her life again. It was a blessed relief that it seemed like he had finally gotten the message that she was an adult and had her own life to lead.  
  
Lisbon let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding when she spotted Jane standing there, looking a little helpless, through the peephole. A frown knotted between her brows as she opened the door, however. The stench of alcohol on his breath was unmistakable; he had been drinking, and heavily at that. She knew that Jane hated the similarities he shared with his father, but she also knew that he found them inescapable. With a heavy sigh, she stood to one side and indicated that he could come in.  
  
“What do you want, Jane?”  
  
“To see you,” he replied simply.  
  
“I kind of figured that. I hope you didn’t drive.”  
  
“Teresa, please. I’m not an idiot.”  
  
“Sometimes, I’m not so sure about that,” she muttered under her breath.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Have you eaten? You need to sober up.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“That wasn’t the question.”  
  
Jane pouted and flopped down on her couch, making himself comfortable. Instinctively, Lisbon rubbed her temples in order to shake off the impending migraine. She really should have known better than to stay up until two-thirty a.m. working on a case which seemed like it would never be solved. The offer of food probably wasn’t wise either, but she wasn’t tired and Jane was a chronic insomniac anyway. Besides, it was better for her to get him drinking water and eating something in order for him to at least start to feel a little more lucid again. Shaking her head, Lisbon headed towards the kitchen and prepared him a cheese and ham sandwich. He was behaving like an overgrown child, so she wasn’t above treating him like one either. Soon enough, she headed back through to her lounge and placed the food and drink on her coffee table.  
  
“Eat and drink. I mean it, Jane.”  
  
“You’re not my boss.”  
  
“No, but I’m your friend and I’m worried about you,” she answered carefully.  
  
The sound of a car speeding off from outside distracted her momentarily, but Lisbon put it from her mind. It was probably one of the neighbors; she knew that the teenage girl across the street was expecting a baby any day now. Maybe today had been that day. The urgency with how the car had rushed off suggested it could be anyhow. Regardless, it wasn’t enough to distract Lisbon from her task in hand. She had to deal with Jane. After all, he had turned up half-cut on her doorstep for a reason and now, he was in no fit state to tell her. Besides, he needed looking after and that was something which her natural motherly instinct just couldn’t turn her back on.  
  
It still took a little coaxing, but eventually Jane began to eat properly. Over the course of half an hour, he quickly sobered up and in spite of it being late at night (or early in the morning), conversation soon followed. Jane edged closer and closer to her side over that time, and she didn’t push him away. Maybe he’d been right. Maybe she had been punishing him for something that was out of her control. It wasn’t fair of her; he wasn’t the enemy, Red John was. Besides, although she would never have admitted it to him, she did miss this level of intimacy. When his hand rested gently on her thigh, she didn’t pull away. When he rested his head on her shoulder, she didn’t push him aside. As with their reignited physical intimacy, the subjects they covered grew more personal. Lisbon could feel the tiredness in the back of her eyes, but she couldn’t bear to stop. How foolish had she been to believe she could cut herself off from the rest of the world. It was that kind of behavior that had caused her descent into insanity shortly after Andrew and Eva had been killed.  
  
“You should go to bed,” Jane said quietly and he squeezed her leg. “You’re tired.”  
  
“No I’m not.”  
  
“Look, you’re getting all stubborn on me,” he replied and offered her a gentle smile. “I know you’re tired.”  
  
“I could have gone to bed at any time.”  
  
“And leave me on your couch, drunk? You’d never have even dreamed of such a thing. Besides, you’re too predictable.”  
  
She flinched at his words and wondered if that was her undoing. Perhaps Red John was abusing the team because he knew how she would react? The thought was cast quickly from her mind, or at least, Jane didn’t give her the opportunity to delve more deeply into that thought. He placed a soft hand on her face, running his thumb across her cheekbones. She flinched when he leant in and kissed her chastely. Automatically, her eyes fluttered shut. It had been so long since she had last been kissed by a man, even as short and sweetly as that. Jane gave her a second to catch her breath before he kissed her for a second time and when he deepened it, she responded naturally. Her hands snaked around his back, pulling him in closer and she felt his fingers running through her hair. When he broke away, she stood abruptly. Jane went to follow, but she held up a hand and prevented him from doing so.  
  
“Um. I’ll go and get you some pillows from the closet. My comforter’s on the back of the couch. That’ll be enough, right?”  
  
“Teresa…”  
  
“No, this is wrong. You’re… not sober, Jane. And it’s too dangerous, damn it. We can’t do anything. The last man I loved wound up dead. I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it.”  
  
“I’m sorry too,” he muttered and cast his gaze away. “Don’t worry about the stuff; I’ll go get it. You get some rest.”  
  
She nodded and headed back upstairs, briefly stopping by her office to switch off her computer and pick up her cellphone. Lisbon had forgotten that she had left it up there. When she looked at the screen, she was surprised to see hundreds of text messages and nearly fifty missed calls from Van Pelt. Suddenly, it started to ring again and startled, Lisbon almost dropped her phone. Quickly, she pulled herself back together again and answered it. Already, her heart was sinking; this couldn’t be good news. Why else would Grace Van Pelt have called her so many times in the dead of the night?  
  
“Lisbon? Thank God,” Van Pelt said and her voice broke a little. “It’s – it’s my cousin, Yolanda. R-Red John got her. She’s been...”  
  
Van Pelt didn’t need to finish her sentence for Lisbon to know what she was going to say. In response, she felt her knees give way from underneath her and her heart rate escalated at the same time. These were words she absolutely did not want to hear. The pain in Van Pelt’s voice, and the fact that another member of the team had just lost somebody so close to them was all her fault.  
  
The question was: what would happen next?


	24. Chapter 24

The blood on the wall was still damp. Like with Cho’s father, the body had been discovered incredibly soon after the murder itself had occurred. Van Pelt was outside of her cousin’s home, being held closely by Wayne Rigsby. Of course, he was going to be the one to offer her gentle comfort. It was the role he was designed to play, after all, he was her lover. And despite it going against the rules and regulations, Lisbon had no doubt that he would have made Grace a sweet and conscientious lover. She couldn’t begrudge the happiness they found in one another; that was something she had experienced herself in the past, and something she continued to deny herself at this very moment in time. But on the one hand, it made her uncomfortable to think that they were openly opposing the rules. However, she couldn’t think of anyone that Van Pelt needed more right now.

She stared bitterly at the leering smiley face. Hours before, she had been wondering just what would happen if somebody else on the team was exposed to Red John’s brand of evil. Lisbon hadn’t wanted Van Pelt’s hopes and dreams to be swatted like a fly, but something like this could easily destroy any positivity that the youngest member of the unit felt for the world. Like Cho, her only crime had been working with the Serious Crimes Unit, focusing on the Red John case whenever the serial killer chose to act. And like Cho, she had been damned by association.

This was all her fault. She was dragging the team down. She could only hope they could cling onto their last vestiges of sanity. After all, every time she saw that face on the wall, she could feel those same thoughts clawing at her mind again.

Vaguely, Lisbon wondered if her cutting ties with the unit would make any difference now or if it was already far too late. The latter, she considered, was far more probable. And besides, she doubted that Jane would even allow her to leave. He thought she was safer where she was, that their danger was a part of their job description and that there was no point in hiding. Anyway, her assistance was ‘vital’ to the team and especially to the Red John case. But, they had closed cases before her and would close cases after. Did it really make all that much of a difference whether or not she was there? They already had targets painted on their backs. And it really was too late; Red John wouldn’t care where she was now. They had been too welcoming for too long and had already allowed her in way too close.

And worse: for a short spell, they had made her happy. That was the most heinous crime of all from the viewpoint of the malicious serial killer.

“What do you think?” she asked Jane quietly.

“I think she truly believed she was a psychic, but of course, she wasn’t, although Grace would never believe me,” Jane answered and Lisbon shot him a scathing look. “I also think that you need to stop blaming yourself because this isn’t your fault.”

“I can’t say either way on your first statement, but you’re wrong about the second.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. If I didn’t know Van Pelt, then Red John wouldn’t have held a grudge against her either way. Like Cho’s father, he would have had no inclination to kill Yolanda Phillips.”

“So you don’t believe that Red John held a grudge against Miss Phillips for masquerading as a psychic in much a similar way to you used to?”

“Is there any evidence of her peddling her trade on television, or of her having any insight into the Red John case?”

“No.”

“There you go then.”

“Being sleep-deprived makes you a little peevish, my dear,” Jane said lightly.

She shot him yet another dirty look, as if to say ‘well that is your fault’, but she didn’t dare say the words. You never knew who could have been listening in and besides, the words could easily have been misconstrued. They hadn’t done anything untoward, even the kisses had been comparatively chaste. Lisbon had stopped it before it had gotten any further. This was just a confirmation that she had made absolutely the right decision on that front, however much it made her heart ache. Desperately, she tried to put those thoughts back in their respective boxes. She knew that she just couldn’t handle feeling lovesick for the two men she couldn’t have: her husband and Patrick Jane.

“Red John makes me peevish,” she corrected automatically.

“You need to rest.”

“I need to work this case.”

“Which is something we can both do after we’ve rested adequately,” Jane retorted and stared her direct in the eye. “You’re only going to do yourself more harm if you keep doing this to yourself, Teresa. Take it from somebody who knows.”

Lisbon’s shoulders sagged in defeat and nodded. Despite being the one who could read people, hypnotize them, come up with all sorts of theories about cases and prove to be right time and time again, she had more than met her match in a certain Patrick Jane. With seemingly practiced ease, he could talk her into almost anything and she hated it. It reminded her of her relationship with her father almost too much on occasion. However, the key difference was she trusted Jane and knew that any decision he made was for the greater good. He just had a tendency to take things that little too far sometimes. And, Minelli agreed with her sentiment. Therefore, she felt reassured with her assessment of their relationship.

Suddenly, Jane’s cellphone rang and he held up a hand to indicate that he wasn’t done with her yet. However, he stepped to one side to take the call, mostly so that he could focus on the call instead of Red John. Jane didn’t mind her hearing his side of the conversation; he never did. It didn’t take her long to figure out who was on the other end of the line, and of course, she couldn’t help but listen in.

“What the hell, boss?” Jane seethed and Lisbon took a step closer to remain within earshot. “It’s another Red John, we can’t just- okay, fine. We’ll tie up here as soon as we can. Just get Cho to the crime scene as soon as possible.”

Warily, Lisbon watched as Jane bid farewell to his superior and then, he returned his full attention back to her. She felt drawn thin; prior to him pointing it out, Lisbon had actually felt okay. The knowledge that Red John had struck again, and affected somebody so close to her, had reawakened her senses. Only now, the tiredness was beginning to fight back. And from what she could tell, it would still be a long while until she actually got to rest properly. Now, she was beginning to seriously regret spending the vast majority of the night awake and in Jane’s company. He was right; she was exhausted and wouldn’t be of any use to them like this.

“Minelli?” Lisbon asked and Jane nodded.

“He wants us to work another case.”

“He thinks working Red John and another case at the same time is wise?”

“Apparently so. Minelli believes that Red John ‘isn’t going anywhere’ even with this new murder. His suggestion is that Van Pelt and Cho focus on the new case as they are now too close to Red John, Rigsby and I work Red John… and you split your time between the two.”

“And he really thinks we have the manpower to be able to cope with this?”

“We were requested specifically again. You take down one killer –“

“And three crop up in his place,” Lisbon concluded with a heavy sigh. “I know.”

“Is it absolutely necessary for you to see the crime scene?”

“I think, on this occasion, I might be able to get by with just photographs.”

“Good,” Jane answered back. “I’ll tell you as much as I can later.”

“Are you well enough to keep going yourself?” she asked dubiously.

“Me? I’m practically sober now.”

She was skeptical, but she didn’t argue. Jane was the boss. Besides, she had never seen him suffer from serious consequences after a night drinking. And within the space of an hour, from appearing on her doorstep to her bidding him goodnight, he had practically transformed in demeanor. When he had bounded upstairs, having heard her fall, he was his normal self. But that wasn’t enough to stop her from worrying; that was an inherent characteristic she would never shake off. Lisbon had always lived in fear for those she cared about and some things would never change.

Despite the fact it was already four a.m., Lisbon vowed to be back at the office by midday at the latest. Then, she drove home, already skeptical about just how much sleep she was going to get. It was only natural; not only did she have to contend that Red John had decided to strike down the most innocent member of the unit due to her, but there was this new case too. She didn’t know anything about it, but already she believed that Virgil Minelli just made an uncharacteristic grave error of judgment. Stretching the team this thin just felt like it was going to translate into disaster, one way or another. Red John was at his most deadly and who knew what this new case would entail? As a consequence, by the time she actually got home once again, Lisbon had stressed herself out. There was far too much on her mind and justifiably so.

In spite of her concerns, the moment her head hit the pillow, Lisbon promptly fell asleep. Exhaustion just took over her body before she had a chance to think otherwise, and mercifully, the rest was entirely dreamless. The last thing she had wanted was nightmares toying with the seemingly monumental problems she was already facing in reality. A couple of hours later, she awoke, feeling surprisingly refreshed but no less apprehensive about what the day would inevitably hold in store for her. Reluctantly, she pulled herself back together and headed into work. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

When she arrived at the CBI headquarters, Jane and Rigsby were out, chasing down leads relating to the Red John murder. Briefly, her heart ached to be with them; she understood Red John and she feared that they might miss out on something that only she could notice. Meanwhile, Cho and Van Pelt were in the office, working studiously hard and the familiar wave of guilt rushed over her. They were broken individuals; both had endured a similar intimate loss that she had. It wasn’t fair; they should never have been put into this position. But Red John had chosen the team as his playthings and seemed determined to break them from the inside out. Still, she couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that it wasn’t the fact that they were working the case, but because they knew her that he objected to.

“Hey Lisbon,” Van Pelt said quietly; she looked exhausted. Lisbon knew from a managerial point of view her presence was necessary; they simply couldn’t operate a team member down at this moment in time. However, she couldn’t help but wish the woman could have a little time off to grieve for her cousin. After all, she probably felt like it was her fault that Yolanda had died too.

“You want a coffee before we get started?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Lisbon could feel Cho’s skeptical gaze boring into her. He may have been quiet, he may not have worn his heart on his sleeve, but he still felt deeply. Cho just had more subtle ways of showing emotion. Thankfully, he didn’t press her for essentially lying to him, instead he dove straight into updating her on the case. The crime scene photographs made it appear pretty rudimentary, or at least, as rudimentary as a crime scene could be. It was a sparse warehouse, empty apart from the body, the blood spatters and the dust. The man had died in situ and the location immediately intrigued her. However, she was relieved that she couldn’t notice anything that required further investigation from the photographs. Any information she needed could easily be ascertained from elsewhere.  
Cho suspected the murder was related to two local biker groups, fighting over territory; something which made Lisbon relieved that Rigsby was being kept away from this case. However, the victim, Anton Mendes had nothing to do with either group. Ultimately, if Cho was right, then it was a case of the poor man being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Something about it felt off though, or at least, she believed the situation was far more complicated than Cho made it out to be. Then again, it was her job to work it out and she knew she couldn’t complain about that. All she could do was hope that Jane and Rigsby were making progress with Red John, for Van Pelt’s sake, and that she could crack this one before the guys needed her.

Eventually, they left the confines of the office in order to carry out interviews and chase up leads. Lisbon kept a cautious eye on both of them throughout the time they spent together. She felt like it was the very least she could do. But, she was pleasantly surprised at just how well they were holding things together, especially Van Pelt. With the latter especially, she suspected she was still in denial and glad of the distraction from the painful grief that came from losing a family member to a notorious serial killer. When it hit her, then she would have problems, but for now she was okay. But that would never be enough to stop Lisbon’s concern for her, not until she knew that Van Pelt had truly achieved closure. While she was also worried about Cho, she could tell this was the first major family death that Van Pelt had had to deal with, and it had occurred so soon after she had watched somebody commit suicide before her very eyes. It was a lot of burden on young shoulders.

The case developed quickly. From the moment that Lisbon met Anton Mendes’ wife, she suspected that something wasn’t quite right about her. While she appreciated that the woman wasn’t desolate with grief, she seemed almost ambivalent about the death of her husband. Her demeanor made it appear that she felt like a weight had been lifted and like she was truly free again. But, if she had been shackled to a marriage, why hadn’t she just left? It was the twenty-first century; divorce was seen as being entirely acceptable, especially amongst the secular community. There had been no real need for her to stay.

Slowly but surely, the case against Maria Mendes built up. It took a couple of days of intensive work, but the effort was almost worth it. Only almost because she felt virtually cut off from Rigsby, Jane and the Red John investigation as a consequence. She hated that, even though she knew they would drag her back in if it became entirely necessarily. When it came to the Mendes murder, Lisbon knew that the wife was an accessory to murder at the very least, but also didn’t think she was the one to literally pull the trigger. When they discovered that she had contacts within the Sinner Saints, everything just fell into place. Maria Mendes had been courting a member of the Saints, had been trying to ingratiate herself in their community as a lover of one of the bikers. The innocent husband, however, had gotten in the way. They attempted to frame the murder as one carried out by the rival gang, and had taken him into their territory and shot him at point blank range. Lisbon shuddered; it was no way to find out that your spouse was cheating on you, and no way to die either. The ultimate betrayal, she surmised.

And that was when the team ran into problems. When they finally had enough evidence to warrant arrest, Lisbon, Van Pelt and Cho had found themselves in the middle of a face-off between the two cycle gangs. Her heart sank; she knew something was going to go wrong when the team was as over-stretched like this. She couldn’t help but feel that if they had either focused on Red John or Mendes, then they would never have ran into this problem. Inevitably, however, somebody was going to get hurt and that someone was her.

A few gunshots fired up into the air, but she wasn’t hit. Then, the loud sirens and flashing blue lights of assistance came sweeping into the area and some of the members of both gangs panicked, fleeing the scene. One rider clipped her on the shoulder and Lisbon collapsed, hitting her head hard on the concrete sidewalk. As tense as the moments leading up to it had been, this was when the nightmares really began.

She was back on the carnival circuit, a girl of nine years. Her father had already been honing her natural abilities for reading people, hypnotism, card tricks, misdirection and the like for four years. Soon, young Teresa Hamilton would become her father’s cash cow and the only protection she had was in the form of her precious mother. And the only friend she had was Andrew Lisbon, son of carnie royalty. They were currently resting in California for the winter season; nobody much liked the idea of carnivals in January. Usually, Teresa liked this time of the year; she wasn’t being forced to put on a show. This time, though, her father was trying desperately to make sure the carnival’s newest act would be ready in time for spring.

Her mother promised she would take her away before it happened. This wasn’t the life she had wanted for her daughter, far from it, in fact. In silence, Teresa’s mother placed a cross pendant around her neck, promising her that God would always be by her side. Teresa vowed never to take it off; she believed in her God and she believed her mom.

Unfortunately, they were overheard.

Teresa didn’t know of this, of course, until three nights later. She had been trying to sleep in her cramped bed in the family caravan. Her fingers remained clenched around her precious new pendant which her mother had entrusted her with. Her mind was overrunning with thoughts about how she and her mom were going to escape, how they were going to become normal people. The idea of such a change should have been daunting, but Teresa could only be excited. She hated this life; she had always wanted to be normal. If she could have had everything her way, she would have taken Andrew with them, but just leaving was her priority.  
Then, she heard the piercing scream. It was familiar; she immediately placed it as being her mother’s. She was meant to be oblivious to the fact, but Teresa knew that her father had beaten her mom on several occasions. Almost immediately, Teresa flew out of bed, changed as quickly as possible and rushed to the truck. Hiding in the back, she watched as her reluctant mother was corralled into the vehicle and soon, they sped off to an unknown location. Abruptly, they pulled up in front of a dingy motel and for a moment, both the Hamilton women were paralyzed with fear. Teresa stayed frozen to the spot for fifteen minutes, but she still heard the screams of her mother. Only when they quieted down did she dare to creep off the truck and up in the direction that she had seen her parents disappear off to.

When she reached it, the door to their motel room had been left open, almost invitingly. With her heart beating painfully, Teresa pushed it open gently. Her mother was lying on the bed, bleeding to death. Jason Hamilton was standing above her, laboriously painting a smiley face above her head. It was only when he knelt to dip his fingers into his wife’s blood once again that he spotted his daughter standing there. Teresa opened her mouth to scream, to say something, but no words came out. She watched with her mouth agape as he finished painting the smiley face and then he hopped over to her side. Placing a hand on each of her shoulders, he stared her direct in the eye and smiled.

“Teresa, honey, you shouldn’t be here.”

Tears sprang in the corner of her eyes and he wiped them away. Then, he began to use the very same tricks on her that he was trying to teach her to do. Teresa could feel her eyes getting heavier, her breathing getting increasingly labored as she slowly but surely fell into a deep trance…

…and then, she woke up.

But Teresa Lisbon could remember it all. Every minute detail felt utterly real. That was when, finally, that the scream she had been holding during the dream managed to escape from her mouth. It took Cho several minutes to calm her down and then, Lisbon realized exactly where she was. She wasn’t back at the carnival circuit, she wasn’t in the middle of the street facing the Sinner Saints, but she was in a sparse hospital room, with gleaming white walls staring around her. She shuddered; instinctively, she remembered the time when there had been a lock on the door and she hadn’t been able to escape, however hard she tried. This time, mercifully, the door had been propped open. She wasn’t trapped in here.

“I know who Red John is,” she muttered and Cho eyed her suspiciously.

But she did. It explained his intense fascination with her. It explained how and why her father had never been truly able to let her go. Once she remembered his dirty little secret, once she had been able to unravel the hypnotic trance he had set on her all those years ago, she became dangerous.

Even so, she had to fight desperately against the urge to vomit. It was a natural instinct. She had buried down this memory so deeply that she had actually been blinded to the idea of her father being Red John. Lisbon felt like she had been simultaneously betrayed and humiliated. Parents were meant to care for their children, not destroy everything that they held dear. First, it had been her mother. Her husband and daughter followed next. In the intervening time, he had killed many other women to feed his bloodlust. And recently, he had turned on her adoptive family: the team. Now, all she could think about doing was telling Jane, before it was too late.

“Not yet,” Cho said when she told him and he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “The doctor needs to assess you first.”

“Fine,” she retorted back angrily and crossed her arms.

“I’m going to get a coffee. I’ll come back when the doctor is done.”

“Fine,” she repeated, but then she softened her tone. “Cho? Did you get Maria Mendes?”

He nodded gently. “Yes.”

“Is she being questioned by Van Pelt and Ron?”

“Yes. Stop worrying, Lisbon,” he instructed before vacating the room.

She tolerated the examination, but only because she knew she had to get out of here as soon as feasibly possible. Lisbon knew that she was of no use cooped up in a hospital bed, and besides, she felt more in tune with herself than she had done for her entire adult life. For the first time in a long while, everything made sense. She wasn’t even living in fear of Red John anymore; she knew who he was and what he did. He was human, he had weaknesses.

And Lisbon knew that she was his Achilles’ heel. Red John was going to be brought down, even though he was her father. If anything, she felt the desperate need for justice more than ever before.

As promised, Cho waited outside for her. She smiled gently at him; the doctor had given her a clean bill of health. Of course, she had lied to him about the headache, but she didn’t care. She needed to get out of there and she physically felt fine. Besides, if she didn’t hurry up, then she knew her father would try and take down another member of the team. The question was, would it be Rigsby or Jane next? Lisbon didn’t like the idea of it being either of them, but a part of her couldn’t help but feel like Jane was the one to be more concerned about. After all, she had always shared the more intimate relationship with him. If Jason Hamilton was going to directly kill one member of the team, it would be Patrick Jane. There were no doubts about that in her mind.

With a severe sense of déjà vu, Lisbon checked her cellphone only to discover she had missed several calls and text messages, this time from both Rigsby and Van Pelt. The same applied to Cho. Quickly, they shared a nervous glance before climbing into the SUV. Lisbon waited uncomfortably in the passenger seat as Cho placed the call through to Rigsby, immediately switching onto speakerphone. Unusually for Rigsby, he didn’t bother with preamble; he just got straight to the point.

“Jane’s gone. Red John has taken him, but there isn’t a body, just the smiley face in his office.”


	25. Chapter 25

There was the persistent sound of dripping water somewhere in the general vicinity. Light pierced through broken blinds; it felt like it was burning him and Jane screwed his eyes tightly shut in sheer irritation. Eventually, he groaned and stopped fighting against inevitability; he was already awake and there was nothing he could do about it. Eventually, he dared to take a peek and tried to take in his surroundings; he didn’t need his vision to know that something had gone distinctly wrong with his day. It was difficult to get a full scope of where he was, considering he had been tightly tied and bound to a bed. Immediately, he wished he had a pick to get rid of the handcuffs; picking locks was a rudimentary skill he'd learned as a reckless youth. It had been something for him to distract himself with while his father drank himself to oblivion. The simple skill had saved his life on numerous occasions, but clearly it wouldn’t be his savior this time around.  
  
The room was a dirty shade of magnolia. A basic print of a Monet hung on the opposite wall and the ancient television set underneath it was quite obviously broken. It was a motel room, obviously, but that didn't identify where he was or exactly how he got there. The gaps in his memory irked him; he didn’t appear to have a memory palace like Lisbon did, but Jane still prided himself on his excellent recall skills. For something like this to happen to him, as far as he was concerned, it was practically unforgivable. And worse, the only person he could think of to blame for it was himself. The more he focused, the more he could remember what had happened prior to his falling unconscious.  
  
The last thing he remembered was talking to Rigsby on the phone. It was relatively early in the morning, but Rigsby had been held up coming into work and Jane had chosen to chase him up. He'd been pacing around his office, as he was trying desperately to think through the Red John case. Two murders in as many weeks was a huge shift in MO, as were the types of victim he was specializing in. Lisbon was right; he had entirely turned his focus onto the team. He hadn't shown signs that he was going to attack a member of the team directly; it was always just somebody they knew. However, there was still time for him to change that; Jane was certain that that was what he was working towards and the very thought made his skin crawl. They needed to crack this case before it destroyed them.  
  
He’d heard gunshots; something which never should have happened within the confines of the CBI headquarters. Besides, excepting a couple of security personnel and the cleaners, nobody else was there. Jane had known that; the Serious Crimes Unit was the only team working any major operations at that moment in time. He was about to draw his gun and turn to face the attacker, but he didn't remember anything after that. The searing pain at the back of his head indicated that he had been knocked unconscious before being transported to this place. There was a deep wound on his left arm too, but it had already clotted over, much to his relief. However, that didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t a chance that the wounds were already infected. It was something that he had to think about later; there was nothing he could do to deal with his injuries. Besides, Jane still had far more questions than answers and he did not like it. Worse, he had a shrinking suspicion about who was responsible. His heart sank; if he was right, he would never stand a chance.  
  
His life would be over; Red John would win.  
  
And he would never be able to tell Teresa Lisbon that she was the only woman he had ever truly fallen in love with.  
  
Footsteps approached and soon enough, a distinctly familiar pair of piercing green eyes were staring down at him. Then, a knife began to hover in his view. A spasm of fear rocked through his body. But, this wasn't his Lisbon looking down at him, it was...  
  
"Good afternoon, Mr. Jane. I am very glad to see you are awake. You had me worried."  
  
“You bastard,” Jane hissed in response.  
  
He laughed. “I take it I don’t need to introduce myself then.”  
  
“Why are you doing this?” Jane asked and he began to struggle at his bonds. “What has Teresa done to deserve this treatment? She’s your _daughter_ ; she hasn’t done anything wrong.”  
  
“And that’s why.”  
  
“What?” Jane replied, flummoxed.  
  
“She’s mine. I made her who she is today, sculpted her from nothing and what thanks do I get in return?” Hamilton, _Red John_ , let out a hollow laugh of disgust. “Nothing. You and your pretty little team have been corrupting her. One by one, she will lose you all. I promise you that.”  
  
Unable to form a cohesive response, Jane resorted to spitting in Red John’s face. The man he desperately wanted to kill, for the victims, for Cho, for Van Pelt and for Lisbon especially held all the cards and stood there, taunting him. Jane needed to prove that he was no coward, and that he wasn’t going down without a fight. In reality, Jane knew that his situation was utterly helpless and there was very little that he could actually do. If anything, he knew that he had just exacerbated things rather than helped them.  
  
But, even if he was free to do whatever he wanted to the man standing in front of him, would he have actually been able to do it? Lisbon loved and loathed her father in equal measures, Jane knew that. Red John and her dad being the very same person complicated matters: he couldn’t just kill somebody that she loved, could he? She had so few people left in the world already. Even so, it didn’t change facts. This man was still a deadly serial killer who had murdered so many helpless women – and a few innocent men as well. He had brutally killed his daughter’s husband and his granddaughter, his own flesh and blood without a second thought. It was almost the clear definition of psychopath. Jane wasn’t surprised, but the thoughts still made his head hurt and heart ache.  
  
How had Lisbon missed the signs? Why hadn’t she been able to notice that something untoward was going on with her father anyway? Had she been able to work it out now? And if she had, would she be able to get here in time?  
  
The only main conclusion that Jane could come up with was the simple fact that ‘love is blind’. Teresa Lisbon wanted to see the best in her father, so she hadn’t been able to spot the very worst that was lurking just underneath the surface. And now, the man had vowed to destroy them all in one way or another, just to get her back into his clutches. The very thought made Jane feel sick to the stomach. This man had a warped perception of life itself and Jane just wanted to be able todo something, anything about it.  
  
And he was entirely powerless.  
  
“Is it really that wise to do that to somebody holding a knife in front of you?”  
  
Abruptly, Red John rolled up Jane’s shirt and exposed his taut abdomen. Gloved fingers gently ran across the naked skin and Jane shuddered uncomfortably at the touch. Although it had been a long while since he had last eaten or drank something, he could feel the bile rising from the pit of his stomach and into his throat. Swiftly the fingers turned into a knife and cut through several layers of skin. Jane stared defiantly at the serial killer and bit on his lip to stop himself from screaming. He wasn’t going to give the bastard any more power than he already had over him. The fact that he was going to die imminently was more than enough.  
  
But, Red John behaved unexpectedly. He didn’t deepen the wound, make it life threatening. Instead, he encouraged the blood to seep out of the small cut before dipping his fingers into it. Jane watched as above his head, Red John slowly but surely painted his trademark smiley face. When finished, he took a step back to admire his handiwork, sheathed the knife and cleaned up the wound that he had just inflicted. While it wasn’t entirely a surprise that he hadn’t killed him before painting the taunting face, Jane had expected him to finish the job within an hour. And he wasn’t scared of death either; in spite of there being so much left that he wanted to achieve, he had been resigned to his fate. After all, his every hope was pinned on serendipity and chance.  
  
“What? You think I want to kill you now? When we’re having so much fun?” he asked, but Jane didn’t reply. “Why would I want to do that when I have an audience that’ll arrive at any time?”  
  
With that, he swept out of the room, leaving Jane alone with only his macabre thoughts for company.  
  
xxx  
  
The four of them stood huddled around the murder board. Lisbon shivered as her eyes lingered on the face of Patrick Jane. He was smiling pensively in the photograph, his eyes as alive as they had been when she had bid farewell to him yesterday evening. It was strange how much could change in less than twenty-four hours. Silently, she cursed at herself for not coming into the office, for meeting Cho and Van Pelt at a coffee shop near the victim’s home. If they hadn’t avoided their workplace practically all day, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Lisbon stopped, pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to stop this dangerous line of thought. No, she knew what her father was like and she knew that he would stop at nothing in order to get what he wanted.  
After all, he had tampered with CBI case files. He had removed all evidence that her mother had been killed by Red John at all. It had taken Van Pelt the best part of the previous night to find the hidden data, the missing information and confirm that Lisbon was right: her mother was officially the first victim of Red John, and not Lucy Andrews as everyone had previously suspected. This, of course, was like an earth-shattering revelation when it came to Red John and as a consequence, everything else had fallen into place.  
  
And Lisbon hadn’t stopped feeling nauseous in all that time.  
  
“Are you sure, Lisbon?” Rigsby pressed urgently and she shrugged her shoulders helplessly.  
  
“As sure as I can be,” she answered back.  
  
“Jane’s life is at stake,” Cho reminded her.  
  
“Don’t you think I _know_ that?”  
  
She had told them everything she could about her father. Between them, they had come up with three plausible locations where Jason Hamilton aka Red John could have taken Jane. His old murder house, which was highly unlikely in Lisbon’s opinion, her old family home in Malibu or the motel room where it had all started. While there were some ‘charms’ about the concept of him taking Jane to the place where her husband and daughter had died, Lisbon felt most strongly about the motel. God only knew how the place was still open, but it was the place where ‘Red John’ had emerged and made his first kill. And, more importantly in Lisbon’s honest opinion, it still held familial connections. She knew that her father would absolutely love that, in spite of it being somewhat predictable.  
  
However, the team was still doubtful. They had already endured so many shocks recently, that she couldn’t blame them for being a little overawed. The fact that Red John had managed to hide away one of his own murders, despite leaving his infamous calling card, and the fact that the same man was Teresa Lisbon’s father had left them reeling with shock. It was all they could do to catch up with her mindset before planning their next move. As terrified as she was about Jane’s prognosis, she couldn’t help but feel vaguely hopeful. They had all the information they needed in order to actually get somewhere, to be able to arrest the most notorious serial killer to ever grace the state of California.  
  
All she could do was try and stop herself from thinking that Patrick Jane could already be dead. Until she knew either way, that was something that Lisbon couldn’t bear thinking about.  
  
 “Sorry,” Cho replied and his flinch was barely perceptible.  
  
Van Pelt reached out gently to touch her. “We all care. We’re all involved in this now,” she said and Rigsby nodded in agreement. “We always have been”  
  
“We need to get moving. Lisbon, you’re coming with me.”  
  
Lisbon frowned but instinctively obeyed orders. Diligently, she followed Cho downstairs, past security and straight to the stores. She had an idea of what he was doing, but didn’t say a word, she was already fearful of what it entailed. Cho spoke to the man at the desk, grabbed a few forms and quickly signed off on them. Then, he grabbed the gun – a Glock, much like the one she used at the range – and holster and turned to face her. Lisbon warily took a couple of steps back and held her hands up in protest. She knew exactly what he was insinuating and she didn’t want to go there. She was just a consultant, not a cop. There was absolutely no way she could take responsibility for something like this. It was one thing shooting for pleasure in a controlled environment, and it was another thing entirely doing it in a life-or-death situation.  
  
And to add insult to injury, the man they were after was none other than her father. She begrudgingly took care of him and loved him, throughout all these years. Even though he had hurt and maimed so many people, including many she cared about, Lisbon still wasn’t sure if she could shoot at him if it came down to it.  
  
“Cho, I can’t.”  
  
“I am second in command. Our team leader is missing, presumed dead and I am acting lead agent in his place. I have the authority to clear the use of this weapon by you. You know how to use a gun, and will only use it in a life or death situation. On my authority, you will take it.”  
  
He placed the gun and holster firmly in her hands, and refused to take no for an answer. The service weapon felt heavy in her palms, but he wouldn’t take it back. Cho looked at her seriously, waiting patiently as she attached it to her belt. He didn’t smile when she did so; it wouldn’t have been like him to do so, and besides, the situation was far too grave to warrant it. They both knew that. Without another word, he handed over a Kevlar vest for her use and it was only when she put that on too when he sought out to catch her gaze.  
  
“What if I…?”  
  
“I hope you won’t have to, but if you do, I will be there. You will not be held accountable for any of your actions. I will.”  
  
“But I have a mild concussion.”  
  
“The doctor gave you the all clear.”  
  
“I may have lied,” Lisbon answered back quietly. “I needed to get out of there.”  
  
Cho shrugged helplessly. “It doesn’t matter. I still need you. _Jane_ needs you.”  
  
“Is this even legal?”  
  
“It’s fine,” he assured her, but even though he had been easily able to get her a gun from the CBI no less, she still wasn’t sure about this whole predicament. “We need to get Red John.”  
  
Despite knowing his identity, based on her vivid witness report, she had a feeling that Cho still only thought about the monster that was Red John, rather than the human behind him. He and Van Pelt were still hurting from their recent losses – they hadn’t even had a chance to have funerals for their respective relatives yet – and that was fueling their fury and bloodlust. Meanwhile, she had an emotional dilemma to contend with: her father had killed so many people and there was a high probability that he was adding to that number at this very moment.  
  
The motel was approximately an hour and half away from Sacramento. Traveling in silence, Lisbon knew that the air was pregnant with thought. Each person present had a reason to want Red John dead: Cho and his father, Van Pelt and her cousin, herself… Rigsby hadn’t been directly affected, but that didn’t stop him from caring. Even so, it felt like her father’s hand had been forced, like he had decided to speed up the process for one reason or another. Without Rigsby being directly affected, the picture didn’t feel complete. A part of her was grateful for that though; at least one of them had been spared the heartache, however hard she wished they all could have. Slowly, she clasped her fingers around her cross necklace. An image of her mother’s butchered body – the first Red John crime scene – flooded into her mind, but she cast it aside. Under her breath, Lisbon started muttering the Hail Mary prayer. They needed all the luck they could get.  
  
In reality, all she wanted was for Jane – and the rest of the team – to get out of this alive.  
  
She wanted a chance to talk to her father. To get him to explain why he had done the things he’d done to her.  
  
And she _needed_ closure.  
  
Even so, all of that felt like too much to ask.  
  
Right now, she couldn’t think of an ‘after’ all this. For her, it was probably never going to end. It was certainly something that would land up plaguing her conscience for the rest of her life. Lisbon knew that she would be blaming herself for not realizing that her own father was a notorious serial killer until he had killed in excess of fifty people – and that was just counting the victims that they knew about. Three of his victims were her mother, her daughter and her husband. She had spent her entire life being manipulated by this man. Any early attempts to leave his side, he had somehow found a way to quash them. He had chased her down, tangled her back up in his net and reset everything back to square one. Even when she had believed she had been freed of him, after Sophie Miller had worked her magic and tried to put her back together again, he had still been pulling all the strings from afar.  
But nothing could ever change the fact that this man was her father. Jason Hamilton was Red John. Her revelation, her unlocked memories were the key evidence in the case currently.  
  
And however much she tried to argue with herself, she needed to bring him down.  
  
She wasn’t the only one who needed justice. It didn’t just rest on her shoulders. There were so many other silent victims of Red John’s that deserved the answers and closure in the eyes of the law as well. Besides, having been let down so spectacularly by the one man she should have been able to trust implicitly meant she had very little to cling onto. If that was the law and justice, then so be it.  
  
Later, she could reassess her entire life, her entire mindset. For now, she had more important things to do. The gun that felt heavy against her hip reminded her of that.  
  
The closer they got to the motel, the faster her heart seemed to beat. She should have been used to this; it should have been something she should have been able to cope with. Maybe, if she’d had the option in her childhood, police work might have even been a life she had chosen for herself over what her father carved out for her. But that wasn’t meant to be; she never had a chance to decide what she really wanted for herself. Instead, she now found herself surrounded by CBI agents and playing cop, despite being completely unqualified for it.  
  
Cho had given her a service weapon.  
  
He probably thought she deserved a chance to take a shot at Red John more than the rest of them put together.  
  
Recent events had led to the team ceasing to think about justice when it came to Red John. They just wanted it over by any means possible. If that meant death, then fine. It didn’t matter to them. However, it still mattered to her. She had always believed that the family of killers didn’t deserve to see their loved ones die until there had been a fair trial. Equally, she believed that a serial killer shouldn’t be held responsible for one death, but them all.  
  
And now, as far as Lisbon was concerned, she was perfectly poised to be a judge. She was both a victim and the family of Red John. Who else could ever have even considered saying that?  
  
“Is this it?” Rigsby asked as they pulled up in front of the motel.  
  
Lisbon blinked, trying to rid herself of a sudden sense of déjà vu. She remembered being here, paralyzed with fear in the back of a truck. She could practically hear her mom’s screams filling the air around them. This time, there had to be a more hopeful resolution. After everything she had been through, that was the very least that she deserved. Eventually, she nodded and offered one final silent prayer of hope. Now, it was time to end this.  
  
Cho let her take the lead and apprehensively, she led them towards the room where her mother had been killed. It looked like the motel hadn’t been updated since then; she wondered if the original smiley face – the first one to ever be painted – had remained on the wall. She doubted it; they wouldn’t have wanted it to be known that somebody had died in their rooms. It was ‘bad for business.’ That was a subject she knew all too much about, again, thanks to her father. So many aspects in her life just started and ended with him. Was it really any wonder that she felt like she had never lived in the first place?  
  
Just like the last – and only – time she had been at this building and stood in front of this very room, the door had been left ever so slightly ajar. Lisbon’s breath stilled in her chest for a moment as she craned to listen to what was going on inside. She could hear footsteps; somebody was pacing around the room. Then, a voice; it was that of her father’s. The team remained still behind her; despite Jane’s unorthodox methods, they were well trained in how to deal with an emergency. All she felt like she was really doing was mimicking him. She had seen him do this often enough as it was, but usually it all happened from a distance in her perspective.  
  
When she heard Jane’s voice – thin, tired, weak, he had been there for over twenty-four hours – a rush of emotions crashed over her. He was alive; they still had a chance to save him. But, his life was in her hands. Wordlessly, Cho had trusted the entire operation into her; it was her decision what happened next. Everything about the situation felt wrong, like she and Jane had magically swapped places with each other. Throughout her life, Lisbon had never been the one to save the day: it felt like she was always the one causing the problems. It was only when she had joined the CBI that she had felt capable of beginning to salve her wounded conscience.  
  
Jane’s words grew angrier, more agitated. Her father countered them with equally malicious ones. Lisbon nudged Cho: it was time.  
Together, they burst into the room. In a split second everything seemed to happen at once: her father went to slit Jane’s throat, the knife was at his neck, but one bullet hit his leg, another was lodged in his shoulder. She and Cho had shot simultaneously, but she had no idea which shot she had been responsible for. Ultimately, it didn’t matter so long as they stopped him from doing what he was about to do. Warily, she watched as her father whipped his head around at her to stare at her with contempt. He stumbled back a few places and collapsed against a wall, in agony. Rigsby whisked in, disarmed and dealt with him.  
  
Common sense had prevailed when it came to the team.  
  
Now, she finally felt like it was safe to turn her attention to Jane. But, the first thing she cast her eyes on was the smiley face that was above his head.  
  
This whole situation felt wrong.


	26. Chapter 26

Red John was now officially behind bars. He had recovered adequately from the two gunshot wounds he’d received and had literally just been transferred into a maximum security unit where he would await trial for the crimes he’d committed.  
  
Lisbon still had mixed feelings about it all.  
  
As evidence stacked up against him, she couldn’t help but think that all of this had been too easy. There had to be more to it than that.  
  
And, he was still human and still her father. Nothing would ever change those facts. As a consequence, Lisbon had already come to the conclusion that she would never be able to put this behind her. Once, she’d had fantasies about that happening. Now, it was almost certainly an impossibility.  
  
She tried to put the thought from her mind. For now, everything was quiet. It was all getting back to normal. At least, it was as normal as it could ever be at the CBI. Cho and Van Pelt had healed emotionally from their respective losses, or as much as they ever would. And Lisbon knew that Rigsby and Van Pelt still hadn’t hit any stumbling blocks in their relationship. The team was okay, just like she always hoped they would be.  
  
And as for Jane…  
  
There was a knock at the door and Lisbon shook her head. Hauling herself up from the couch, she walked slowly to the door. She didn’t even need to look to know who was behind it. Carefully she opened the door and smiled weakly when she saw Jane himself standing there. Of course he would come here. It was an important day when it came to Red John and he probably knew that it was better that they shared in one another’s company. After all, they did say that a problem shared was a problem halved.  
  
If only it was all that simple, though.  
  
Despite being shaken up, severely dehydrated and a few minor flesh wounds, Jane had come through his kidnapping ordeal remarkably well. He was already back at work and back to his old tricks again. Some things would never change. And Lisbon knew, deep down, that while her father had let her down in so many ways, Jane never would. She could truly rely on him through thick and thin.  
  
“I bought pizza,” Jane said, indicating to the box. “Didn’t think you’d have eaten.”  
  
“I haven’t,” Lisbon admitted quietly and he shook his head. “But I thought pizza was reserved only for when we closed cases?”  
  
They had ‘celebrated’ the closure of the Red John case a month ago, after Jane had been discharged from hospital. Given his identity, it was a much more somber affair than it would ordinarily have been. It didn’t help that each one of them knew that Red John wasn’t really over. They still had to take down his network and that was going painfully slowly. Even so, they were now back to their old routine. Their current case was an interesting one, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was going anywhere fast. And even the distraction of new cases wasn’t enough to truly ease her addled mind. Lisbon wasn’t recovering from the shock; she was just ignoring the issues.  
  
“Only at work,” Jane answered with a smirk. “In social situations, you can have it at any time. Now, are you going to let me in or just wait for it to get cold?”  
  
Lisbon rolled her eyes and Jane promptly made himself comfortable in the spot she had been sitting moments beforehand. She closed the door carefully, made sure all of her locks were in place and then, Jane beckoned for her to join him. It didn’t take much encouragement, and soon enough, they were sitting side by side and eating in silence. Even without talking, it already felt so much better for her to have him with her. Things could easily have been so different; she had been so close to losing him.  
  
Once finished, and after Lisbon had supplied them both with a cup of hot tea, she curled up at his side. The feel of his hand on the small of her back gave her more comfort than she would ever have dared to admit. Tentatively, she rested her head on his shoulder and was relieved when he didn’t brush her aside. If anything, he pulled her in that little more tightly. And, for the first time in a long while she felt almost complete. The worries in the back of her mind would never go away, nor would her regrets or the mistakes she had made. But, there was still a future out there for her somewhere.  
  
She just had to work out what it was.  
  
Besides, the fight was never over. There were always more criminals that needed to be taken down. And, it was becoming increasingly clear that Red John had somehow managed to build up a massive network which needed bringing down. The task of the job, she knew, wouldn’t be entirely clear until her father talked, or they got some breaks, whichever came first. This was the job she had always felt the most comfortable in. Lisbon had made it clear that she had always known that she was going to stay, no matter what.  
  
But that didn’t stop there from being questions lingering at the back of her mind.  
  
Eventually, she was the one to break the silence.  
  
“Where do we go from here?” she asked quietly, her voice faltering ever so slightly.  
  
“I don’t know.”


End file.
